Violet Means You Love Me
by Lilac Owl
Summary: Set in the three unknown years, Bulma entices Vegeta into helping her with the garden, and close encounters ensue. What happens when tension between the Prince and Yamcha hits a breaking point? Absurdity, of course. The love story of a lifetime.
1. Seeds

A/N: This is my first fic, and I'm only doing it for a bit of fun. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama. **

Chapter 1: Seeds

Staring at the pile of seeds in the palm of her hand, Bulma Briefs sat at the kitchen table of Capsule Corps contemplating the biological cycle of growth. She thumbed the seeds gently, wondering how much fertilizer each would need. As of late the small crew of scientists belonging to Enviro-Corp, an offshoot of her father's company, had been developing a formula to enhance the speed of plant growth. Armed with a small sample of the fertilizer, Bulma fully planned on growing her own small garden in the back of the compound next to her mother's large oak tree. _And,_ she thought as a small smile crept over her features, _It's always nice to test out your products yourself before selling it to the public._

Bulma glanced out the window towards the Gravity Room and the future sight of her garden beyond. Indeed, the weather was calling her name and would be the perfect environment for her new project – a project without sharp points, screws, nuclear reactors, or aliens. _A project that actually requires some nurturing…_ she thought happily, dumping the seeds back into their packaging and dusting off her hands. Suddenly a muffled thump and a curse erupted from outside, and Bulma jerked up out of her seat.

"Blasted chamber…" Vegeta muttered darkly as he threw the kitchen door open, his eyes downcast on his boots.

_Speaking of needing nurturing, _Bulma thought with a smirk as she relaxed and leaned against the table, crossing her legs and tossing her long, wavy blue hair over her shoulder. "Hey stud, what's shakin?" she cajoled mockingly, batting her long eyelashes devilishly.

Vegeta glanced up at her with slight surprise written on his face, his eyes traveling down her figure – clad in a red, long-sleeved dress that ended nearer her behind than her knees – so quickly that Bulma scarcely noticed. He could hear his father's words echoing in his head: "_Son, always size up your enemy. Even his clothing dictates his status_." _What would the old man say about this female siren?_ Vegeta thought with narrowed vision. He could almost hear the reply. "_Dangerous as any. You'll be looking for what's between the legs and you'll miss what's between the ears."_ Of all the women in the world, this one would have the capability to engineer death for a saiyan. "What do you mean by 'shakin'?" he replied gruffly before gracefully moving on to the refrigerator.

"It's a phrase, silly," she said lightly, pushing off the table and walking towards him, hips swaying gently with the ease of a well-practiced gait, "It means 'Hey, what's going on with you?' or 'how's life?'" Cocking her head to the side, Bulma smiled as she watched him retrieve various foods carefully, sizing them up for both nutritional and taste value. She wondered vaguely if he ever stopped thinking at all – if there was ever a moment when absolutely nothing was on his mind. _If Saiyans have greater senses in general, surely their brains must work infinitely faster than ours?_ She watched his muscles flex and relax beneath his skin as he moved about. _Considering Goku, though, perhaps that feature would be limited to Vegeta._ Grabbing the apple he had just set on the counter, she ran it under the faucet and picked up a knife to cut it with. Turning back to him she said, "You're more than welcome to enquire about my day or feelings at any time," with a coquettish smile.

Vegeta flared his nostrils as her movement blasted her feminine scent all over his face. "Don't be ridiculous, female," he growled, snatching the apple from her possessively, "Just because you choose to waste your breath on me doesn't mean I'll grant you the same _favor_."

Without dropping her smile, Bulma took a step towards him and held out her hand. "I was going to cut that for you, you know," she said, piercing his eyes with her own. "I figured I'd do something for you before you screamed at me."

Vegeta tensed for a moment. He supposed that had she wanted to inflict damage she would have attacked him with the instrument in her other hand. Looking from the red apple in his hand back to her face once or twice, he muttered something before shoving it back into her palm and turning away.

"What was that, Saiyan?" she replied happily, turning her ear towards him. "Was that a thank-you I heard?" She saw his back muscles bunch together in irritation.

He half-turned his head towards her. "I said _I'm glad you know your place_," he hissed as his fists clenched. Snatching the rest of the food into his embrace, he stalked off to the table.

Grinning at his retreating figure, Bulma went to cut the fruit. She knew a 'thank-you' when she heard one. Remembering how things were when Vegeta had first come to live with them, her brow furrowed a bit. At first, every snide comment he made compelled her into a screaming hissy-fit and pushed him farther into whatever dismal shell he had made for himself. Eventually, she had begun to notice that her happiness seemed dependent on his and vice versa; for instance, as she sat and stewed in the lab, throwing tools across the room and cursing, Vegeta blasted apart her robots, threatened the gardener, punched holes in the wall, and tore the kitchen apart.

On the whole, it seemed more beneficial for her to try to get along with the alien.

So she switched tactics and returned to attempting to be sweet to him. Although they most definitely still had their own ground-shaking rows, they were fewer and farther in between. Bulma reasoned that this co-dependency was due to his lack of interaction with anyone else, other than her mother and father at times. She, of course, had a much more sensitive disposition – which she hadn't known until she met Vegeta – and took his comments and derision to heart. Most every other man that she had met had been enamored with her or at least respected her, and she was quite content with being in charge and obeyed; on the other hand, Vegeta was a prince from another planet. She could blame it on that.

Vegeta glanced up at the blue-haired vixen as he mechanically shoveled food into his mouth. He had noticed how a little dimple formed on one of her cheeks when she was in thought, and there it was again. "Cutting that little piece of fruit must be quite the challenge for your weak intellect," he remarked almost conversationally, smirking to himself smugly.

Strutting over to his side with the plate of apple slices and a bowl of caramel sauce, Bulma set the plate before him, grasped the back of his chair, and leaned in close, giving him a generous view of her cleavage. "Not nearly the challenge that learning how to use chopsticks was for you," she murmured sweetly, staring into his eyes beneath her fan of lashes. Vegeta blinked dumbly before his visage darkened with embarrassment. Pulling away with a twinkling laugh, Bulma sat in the seat next to him and crossed her slender legs slowly. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't want to hurt your _feelings_." Tossing him a smile over her shoulder, she grabbed an extra fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. "You're too sensitive," she said, popping the bite into her mouth and closing her eyes like it was crème brulee.

Vegeta watched her in silence, his deep gaze lingering on the movement of her cherry lips. _Dangerous…_ his father warned him again as she opened her blue orbs lazily to smirk at him. Shoving his food away with a growl, Vegeta snarled, "You disgust me," and with a last smoldering glance her way, he stalked out of the kitchen.

Bulma's eyes followed him out as he retreated to the GR and slammed the door shut on the way. A twinge of regret wormed its way into her stomach as her gaze traveled back to the uneaten food on the table. After training all morning, he had barely touched his meal, and Bulma knew well what an empty stomach did to the temperamental Saiyan. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, the scientist stood up and gathered the plates together. A few minutes later she staggered out to the GR loaded down with a massive platter of delicacies. "Vegeta!" she yelled patiently as she banged on the door, "I've got your lunch!" She waited for a minute or so for him to power down the machine. "VEGETA!" she shouted with more force, banging incessantly.

All at once the power turned off, and with the speed only a Saiyan could muster, Vegeta flung the door open and glared at her. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, WENCH??" he yelled back, the veins in his neck bulging and his eyes flashing dangerously.

Bulma flinched, her eyes widening in surprise. She waited to answer him as his chest heaved up and down in anger. "I brought you… lunch," she said softly, staring into his eyes as he glared at her.

Vegeta snorted derisively and glanced at the platter in her arms. "Is that it?" he muttered as he looked back to her face with a frown and crossed his arms.

Bulma felt her face turn red with anger and… embarrassment? "Better this than nothing at all," she replied as she shoved the food towards him. "Now eat," she continued as she turned away from him, "Because I can't deal with a grumpy Saiyan. You're bad enough as it is." Gracing him with the view of her voluptuous behind, Bulma shook her hair as she walked down the ramp back to the house.

Vegeta stood still as the woman moved away, stalking her with his gaze. One side of his mouth began to lift ever so slightly to form the smallest almost-smile ever created, but he caught it and squashed the feeling before it could grace his face. "Pitiful female," he muttered darkly as she entered the house. Vegeta turned and drew back into his gloomy dwelling.

***

"Sweetie, did you move the crème puffs I put in the fridge?"

"Did you ask Vegeta, Mom?"

"Oh honey, he's been training all day. I don't think he had the time to rearrange the food."

Bulma put her head in her hands and sighed. "Vegeta doesn't move food, Mother. He _inhales_ it." It had been two days since she'd seen the Saiyan, and that was fine with her.

Tilting her head to the side, Bunny asked nervously, "Is that healthy? Maybe you should check on him…"

Bulma lifted her head and glared at her mother. "Sorry Mom, but I'm not interrupting his precious training again. In fact," she continued, her face brightening as she pulled the basket of seeds towards her, "I've got a little project to start on today."

"Oooo," Bunny squealed as she rushed to her daughter's side. "Are you going to help the gardener?"

"Actually," Bulma replied as she rose from the table and moved towards the door, "He's helping me, I guess. He already dug up a part of the yard for my own little garden."

Bunny looked at the blue-haired woman blankly, clasping her hands together. "Where's he going to put it, dear?"

Bulma stared at her mother incredulously. "Go look for the crème puffs, Mom," she said gently, grabbing her gloves off the counter and leaving her mother to the wide world of the kitchen.

***

Holding her eyelids open carefully with her fingers, Bulma waited for a breeze to coax her into crying the dirt from her eyes. "You put it there, now get it back out!" she shouted angrily to the now-nonexistant breeze as she sat on her haunches in the soil. "This hurts and I look absolutely ridiculous!"

"Well for once you're right," came a gruff reply from behind her. Bulma spun her torso towards the voice, still holding her lids back. Vegeta stood behind her in his training shorts and shoes, a towel thrown over his naked shoulder. Blood tingled in her cheeks as Bulma stared blearily at his sculpted muscles, golden skin, and wind-blown hair. "What in the world are you screeching about, Woman?"

Bulma felt embarrassment wash over her. "I've got dirt in my eyes, _Vegeta,_" she whined, finally letting her lids drop. "This hurts like hell… I think there's some sand in it too…"

Vegeta's eyebrows rose in disdain as Bulma blinked and rubbed her eyes in vain. "You are the single-most pitiful being I have ever seen."

"Thanks. You're the biggest jerk I've ever seen. I would glare at you if my eyes weren't screaming in pain," she said sarcastically. Again she attempted to hold one eye open while fanning it with her other hand.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Cooling off my eyeballs. What do you think? I'm trying to get my eyes to water so it'll some out!"

Dropping to one knee, Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her. "Is this what you do all day instead of fixing my machine?"

"Seriously, Vegeta?" she moaned. "Do me a favor, okay? Blow on it."

Vegeta blinked. "What?"

"Blow on it! Blow on my eyeball!" she pouted inclining her head towards his.

"Absolutely not!" he said indignantly, pulling away.

"Please! My corneas are burning!" she moaned, letting go of her eyes and grabbing hold of his gleaming shoulders.

Vegeta felt his skin light on fire at her touch. "Get your mate to do it!" he replied, shoving her head away as gently as he could.

Bulma shot across the yard and landed fifty feet away.

"Oww…" he heard her murmur plaintively.

Gasping slightly, Vegeta shot over to her side. "Are you dead yet?" he asked hopefully, leaning over her face. He felt a twinge of regret that he hadn't gotten to blast her instead. Bulma moaned in response, triggering a squirm in the Saiyan's stomach. That sound was entirely too provocative for the female. "Woman?"

"My… eyes," she moaned again. "They burn."

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you humans?" he muttered incredulously.

"Blow on them… and I won't tell Goku that you punched me," she groaned.

"I never –"

"Depends on how it's told."

Glaring at her, Vegeta snorted, his father's warning rolling back through his mind. "You dare to threaten me, little female?" he murmured, leaning in close with his hands on either side of her head and breathing in her scent.

A smile began to creep over her face as she tried to crack her eyes open. "No, not really," she sighed, a giggle working its way into her voice. "I really just want to get this dirt out of my eye."

Vegeta pulled back a bit, surprised by her candor. _What a strange creature this is_. Breathing deeply, Vegeta muttered, "Alright. Get up, Woman."

Smiling, Bulma scrambled to her knees and unsteadily leaned towards him again. "You're a doll, Vegeta," she sighed happily.

"I'm not touching your hideous visage. You do it," he growled.

Ignoring his malicious comment, Bulma opened her eyes with difficulty. Vegeta hesitated, but her innocent face and bleary eyes lulled him into submission, and he leaned in nervously to blow on her face. Bulma felt relieve as his cool breath swept across her eyes. "Again…" she murmured when he paused. Vegeta fought the urge to pummel her into the ground as he blew across her face again, leaning in a little closer. As tears began to pour down her face, Bulma felt relief. When the mascara had all but pooled on the ground, Bulma blinked and looked into the eyes of her glorious saviour.

Vegeta stared right back at her, his face beginning to cloud in consternation. "Threaten me again or mention this to anyone, girl, and I will break your fragile neck," he growled.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Bulma gave a watery laugh. "Since when did I get demoted to 'girl'?"

Vegeta stood and cast his gaze towards the little patch of tilled soil. "Since when did you return to playing in the dirt?"

With a small smile, Bulma rose and lithely walked to the garden, wondering vaguely if Vegeta had ever taken the time to find out where his food was produced. "It's a garden, Vegeta. Humans grow flowers and vegetables in them." Bulma grinned as she looked back at the stoic man. "I'm starting a small experiment. You like vegetables, right?"

Vegeta's face darkened with resentment. "I'm not some lab rat for you to toy with, girl," he said as he stalked towards her warily.

Laughing, Bulma tossed her hair long, wavy hair over her shoulder. "I'm not toying with you, _boy_, I'm inviting you to learn something new."

"What is there to learn from you?" he replied with a smirk as he stood next to her and surveyed her work, sticking his hands in his pockets. Little bumps of dirt were spread across the small square of grassless soil.

Bulma again chose to ignore his quip. "I'm growing _food_, Vegeta. Our scientists developed a fertilizer that increases the growth of plants exponentially, where a plant that would grow anywhere from sixty to ninety days normally would mature anywhere from twenty to forty days." Bulma pauses as she calculated in her head. "That's about right, I think."

Glancing at the foreign creature beside him, Vegeta moved towards the garden and nudged a mound of dirt with his shoe. "What have you done… so far?" he asked gruffly.

Bulma observed the man before her for a moment. After living with the temperamental Saiyan for about a year, she had come to know most of his little quirks of character, whereby she could read him better than anyone else. From experience she knew that the most fleeting, rarest emotion that Vegeta had – other than that of love, but let's not get too funny here – was true interest. Anger, boredom, contempt, and even sadness were all emotions that she had identified often enough; interest, however, was rare indeed. Bulma snatched at her chance to ensnare the Saiyan further. "These two rows here are varieties of flowers," she said slowly, her words bringing back the memory of the Badman incident. "I wanted a layer of prettiness before I got to the boring vegetables."

Vegeta glanced at her with the assurance that she was indeed insane. "You find nourishment… boring?"

Bulma shrugged nonchalantly. "Vegetables are mostly just green or brown with no bright colors or unique petals. Plus," she added impishly with a flick of her hair, "They remind me of you."

Vegeta's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What are you talking about, Woman?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she laughed, her pearly teeth gleaming and eyes sparkling. "V-E-G-E-T-A-bles? Vegetables? I find it humorous."

"I find killing you humorous," he growled, crossing his arms defensively.

"Anyway, I'm done planting for today. Tomorrow I'll get started on the… greens." Bulma paused, choosing her words carefully. "You know," she said slyly, moving towards him, " I could really use some help getting these in the ground, watering them, nurturing them… Do you want to help me?"

Vegeta's nostrils flared as her feminine scent assailed his mind again. "I'm no servant to be called upon," he glowered.

Bulma blinked back up at him innocently. "But Vegeta, you get to _eat_ whatever you grow!" she said excitedly, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes. "Plus, I don't think you've ever gotten to see the growth process of your food before, what with your always having been in space. Don't you want to experience it?"

_How can someone so beautiful be so nerdy?_ He thought before mentally slapping himself for complimenting her. On the other hand, she was right. He was actually interested in watching this process. He might even give up watching a few human war movies to see this, and that was saying something.

"Even Goku has a garden," she murmured innocently into the breeze.

Vegeta's head snapped up.

_Any minute shred of knowledge that buffoon has, I must have as well!_ He thought possessively, balling his fists. With a snarl, Vegeta shoved past the blue-haired female towards the house. Abruptly he paused, gracing her with a quarter profile. "Put any of that in the ground without my permission and I kill that ludicrous woman you call a mother," he snarled.

"See you tomorrow, then," she replied with a smile.

Vegeta stormed towards the house, muttering curses.

A/N: Read and review! Thanks!


	2. Stomach Aches

A/N: Thanks for the reviews- more is better!

**Disclaimer:** **All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama. **

Chapter 2: Stomach Aches

Bulma sat basking in the dappled sunlight beneath the large oak branches that stretched near the edge of the garden. Clad in tiny navy shorts and a pink, breezy long-sleeved blouse, she adjusted her position on the lounge chair as she turned the page of her new romance novel. Actually, she was having a difficult time paying attention. As fun as it was to indulge in sensual fantasies of over-endowed hero-figures, Bulma couldn't stop computing formulas and numbers in her head for the new GR upgrade. She sighed. Such was the fate of a genius.

The breeze wafted through the air, tousling her curly blue hair about her shoulders and towards a certain Saiyan striding her way. Upon seeing him, Bulma's eyes softened behind her large shades. Just for fun, she pretended to not notice his presence.

Slowing his pace gradually, Vegeta observed with dark, keen eyes the frail creature before him. Her ivory legs were cast out into the light, gleaming with their translucency and smoothness, while her shirt billowed open at the plunging neck, revealing parts of the matching pink pushup bra beneath. Vegeta's cheeks reddened slightly. The immodesty this female flaunted was a mystery to him, as well as her ability to make the scantiest outfit appear fashionable rather than uncouth. He had witnessed other females attempt a similar style poorly, looking like harlots instead of a queen.

Ignoring his own thoughts, he remarked snidely "Cover yourself before someone offers me a bargain for your hideous body. I'm sure I wouldn't refuse any price."

Setting the book down on her flat stomach, Bulma pulled the shades off her face into her hair and graced him with a condescending scowl. "Women pay good money to look like me, Vegeta," she said. "And I'm not a whore."

"That's not what your mate says," Vegeta replied with a feral grin.

"Yamcha respects women, unlike you. That's why he has me and you have a gravity room," she retorted, her hand gliding across her thigh for emphasis.

Vegeta's eye followed her sinful movements, feeling a pool of heat gather in his stomach. "Yes, the weakling does indeed respect women. Many women. Are you that unpleasing?"

Bulma narrowed her eyes at the handsome devil before her. "Yamcha's indiscretions are his flaws, not mine. I take my virginity seriously. Oh, and I'm quite sure you don't find me unappealing."

Snorting, Vegeta said, "Woman, you're about as appealing as an Arythian Snor'tac."

"Well then you obviously haven't seen me with my shirt off," Bulma purred seductively, batting her eyes at him.

Vegeta reared his head back in mortification, his cheeks burning, but before he could reply, Bulma stood up laughing, saying, "Oh I'm just kidding, Vegeta. Are you ready to garden?"

Barely gathering his bearings together, Vegeta growled, "Your demeanor is disgusting, female. How dare you address me in such a way?"

Still smiling broadly, Bulma leaned in towards him and gently placed her hands on one of his biceps. "Give me a break, Vegeta. You're just too fun to _not_ mess with," she said as he shook her off. "Plus, you always start it. You can put your towel down on the chair, by the way."

Vegeta observed her for a moment, searching for her veracity; Bulma, however, ignored his hesitation and kneeled down in the grass next to the garden, pulling the basket of seeds and tools towards her. "Hey there, Princey. You can pick what to plant first!" she said happily as she looked up at him with a gleam in her eye.

Always, it seemed, Vegeta was taken aback by her abrupt changes in mood and demeanor. One moment she would be snarling and hissing, her hair standing up on end, and the next she would be touching him softly, whispering gentle susurrus in his ear, like when he had last destroyed the GR. Vegeta shuddered at the thought. She disgusted him constantly with her bizarre, irrational behavior, and yet… As he towered over her, he could see the valley of her breasts between the waving V of her blouse. And yet… always she awoke the beast if desire in his chest. Always he could feel the coil of heat burning in his loins and coursing through his veins.

Coughing slightly to clear his head, Vegeta threw his towel aside and knelt on one knee next to her. "What varieties do you have?" he asked gruffly.

Bulma flashed him a brilliant smile as she held up a handful of packets. "_Well_, we have lettuce, radishes, beans, peas, carrots, eggplants… pretty much anything you want." She stared into his black eyes for a moment, and it occurred to her that she'd never been this close to him before. Her throat suddenly felt very dry.

"The violet one," he rasped softly.

"What?"

He took the packet of eggplant from her hand gingerly. "The violet plant. You said all plants were either green or brown and boring," he muttered as embarrassment tinged his cheeks. "You should plant these near the flowers."

Her eyes widening in surprise, Bulma felt a bubble of happiness float up through her chest, and she had to use every ounce of restraint she had to refrain from pecking him on the cheek. "That's a great idea," she replied, trying to keep her voice even. "I'm really glad you came to help, Vegeta."

Vegeta refused to meet her eyes. "Of course you're grateful, Woman. What moron wouldn't want to be in the presence of the Prince of all Saiyans?" He could feel her happiness emanating from her. _I need to ensure that this… female doesn't get too attached._

Smiling to herself, Bulma said, "Okay, here's what you do. You just dig a little hole with the tips of your fingers, like so… And then you drop three or so seeds in and cover it back up." Bulma looked back to him expectantly. "Ready?"

"I have to put my hands in the dirt?" he asked with a grimace. "You dig. I shall place the seeds."

"No way, Jose. I'm not doing it all. Since when were you afraid to get your hands dirty?"

Vegeta stared at her with an indecipherable look. "Since I stopped murdering children."

Bulma felt her throat restrict with a pain that she couldn't identify, and her gaze was caught in his pools of ebony. In horror, she felt wetness gather in her eyes. Jerking her head away from him towards the ground, she squeaked out, "Don't be a jerk, Vegeta. I'm still not letting you off the hook."

"Don't forget that, Woman. One day I will kill you as well," he said gutturally, ignoring her response.

Feeling his gaze boring into her, she brought her eyes back to his and snarled "Don't try to terrify me with your I'm-the-Lord-of-Death act. If you want to kill me so bad," she said softly, inclining her neck until her eyes were level with his, "Then here I am. Take me," she breathed against his lips.

Vegeta glanced at her cherry lips, his pulse soaring as his stomach whirled and his fists clenched. He couldn't possibly miss the double entendre her words presented. "Tempting," he murmured, lifting a finger to her chin, "But I want the pleasure of conquering your entire puny world before I conquer you."

Images of the two of them writhing beneath sheets, her fingers clawing at the muscles of his back and his hips grinding against hers, flashed before her eyes. She pulled back, her cheeks tingling, and said, "Well… until then, this garden isn't going to plant itself."

Vegeta smirked at her bothered state. _Perhaps this 'gardening' will be entertaining after all._

***

Setting her steaming cup of tea on the counter, Bulma wrapped her snuggly cardigan tighter around her slim torso. She smiled absent-mindedly as she looked out the window at the gravity room. A dense cloud had settled down over the area, dampening the garden she and Vegeta had worked in earlier that morning. _He was almost… sweet_, she thought, stirring the pot on the stove. Vegeta, ever caustic and biting, had done nothing but follow her timid direction, seldom replying to her queries and comments with something other than a grunt. _Grunts are good._ Typically, that meant he was either too busy to care or else thinking deeply. Either way, she was happy.

She could still see him in her head as he bent over, his golden back gleaming in the sun and his muscles rippling at the smallest motion. With each plant he sowed, he carefully dug a hole to his own precise specifications, set three seeds in one-by-one, and carefully folded the soil back over. She had never seen him so intense, so gentle… It was simply endearing. He had concentrated so hard on the task, his slender nose wrinkled in thought. Though they had rarely talked, she had the sense that he was actually interested in her mild chatter, and she was beginning to feel that there was more to them than she thought. Recalling that tumultuous feeling in her stomach that she hadn't felt in years, Bulma wondered what it meant for her. _Friends… Vegeta and I are actually friends._

"One little bitty step for Bulma, one giant leap for Saiyans," she said to herself.

"What are you talking about?" came a voice from behind her.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Bulma whirled around. "_Yamcha!_ Could you not be so creepy for once?"

Her boyfriend eyed her figure, noting her delicate sweater-and-dress combo underneath her frilly apron. So she was in a happy mood. "Since when am I creepy? Nothing compared to scary aliens, surely."

Bulma smiled as he tried to hug her before she stiff-armed him. "Careful. I think I got a bit of sauce on the apron. You may kiss my cheek," she said playfully.

He knew she was being funny, but nonetheless he felt something in his chest shift uncomfortably. Kissing her, he looked into the pot. "Whatcha got there? Kittens and mud?"

"Marinara sauce, and if you don't like it, then you don't have to come to dinner. I thought Vegeta might like to try a little Italian food. I don't think he's had it before…" she mused, looking off into the distance.

_There it is again,_ he thought as his stomach lurched at the name of his murderer. "What does it matter?" he said crossly, folding his arms. "It's not like he's going to thank you or anything. Maybe he'll throw it on the floor like the monkey he is."

Blinking in surprise, Bulma rested her tiny hand on his arm. "Hey there, what's up with you?" she asked with a bit of bite to her voice. "Vegeta's been really good lately- and you know what? I think he said thank you the other day."

"Oh, so you'll throw him a freaking party if he says thank you, but you'll give me the silent treatment if I forget to send you flowers on your birthday."

Bulma narrowed her eyes. "Birthdays should never be forgotten, Yamcha. Do we need to talk about this?"

"Maybe we do," Yamcha humphed, looking away from her.

"Hey," she said forcefully, touching his face to turn him her way. "I hold you up to a different standard than Vegeta. I mean, things that would be horribly rude and mean for you to say are like compliments from him. You just have to see where he's coming from."

"I see where he's coming from," Yamcha muttered, his gaze dark, "Murdering babies and raping women."

Yamcha heard the smack before he felt it. Standing before him, her eyes wide in fear and guilt and her hand trembling before her, Bulma began to tear up, her bottom lip trembling. She could see the ire, shock, and betrayal flickering through his eyes. "I'm- I'm," she stammered, bringing her hands to cup her face, "I'm _so_ sorry, Yamcha. I would never mean to hurt… I…" Hesitantly, she reached out to gently brush his cheeks. "You've just got to understand- he's my friend too."

Yamcha stood rigidly, staring down at the beautiful woman trembling before him. There was nothing he could ever deny her, nothing he wouldn't do to keep her… if she wanted to be kept. Cupping one of her hands with his against his face, he asked softly, "Aren't I your friend, Bulma?"

"_Yes,_" she said as a huge wave of relief swept over her features. "Yes, always."

Opening his mouth to ask the one question plaguing his mind, he paused. Her face was too expectant, to innocent… His fear overwhelmed his mind, and he closed his mouth with a crumbling smile.

She knew the moment he gave in. "Oh _thank you_, Yamcha," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder.

Stroking her shimmering hair with a hollow feeling in his chest, Yamcha glanced up as he heard a noise. There Vegeta stood like a trapped animal against the far wall, his anger and confusion rolling off of him in waves. _How did I not sense him?_ Yamcha wondered wildly, but before he could gather himself the Saiyan disappeared into the confines of the house.

Bulma felt her boyfriend tense. Pulling away slightly, she looked into his eyes. "Are you… are we okay?" she asked hesitantly.

_How much did he hear?_ "Of course we are, B," he murmured as he kissed her forehead. "I love you."

"You're the best, Yamcha," she said as she hugged him again.

Feeling the awful gnawing in his chest again, he wondered how long it had been since she said 'I love you' too. _Add that to the list of questions…_

Bulma pulled away with a playful smile. "Now you have to let me get back to cooking. I need to put the bread in the oven, and you know how I need to concentrate to cook well," she said as she moved back towards the stove.

Yamcha observed her for a moment as she began to gather her ingredients. There she was, her hair bouncing in its high ponytail, that tiny smile playing on her lips revealing her concentration, her delicate hands- used to welding metal and holding nuclear reactors- gently buttering the bread. _She's too beautiful for him, _he thought. "So when will dinner be ready?"

Bulma turned to him with a smile and a pinch of flour on her cheek. "Whenever Vegeta's done with training. In fact, would you go check on him? He's probably done already."

The pain in Yamcha's chest intensified and twisted.

A/N: Thanks for reading. How will dinner go? Hooray for awkward moments! Review please!


	3. Where It Hurts

A/N: Sorry that took so long to update… I'm ridiculously busy now. It's whatever.

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 3: Where It Hurts

There were three people Vegeta hated most in the world: The third-class Saiyan, the Weakling, and the Blonde Bimbo- the latter because he simply found her creepy- and at the moment he was battling over his instincts that told him to both discourage affection from Bulma and irritate her boyfriend. On the one hand, he wanted to strangle the woman for declaring him her _friend_, but on the other hand- Vegeta smirked- indulging the woman's little fantasy to see the weakling turn green with jealousy would be priceless. Decisions, decisions…

A knock on his door made it for him.

"Hey- uh- Vegeta?" came Yamcha's high-pitched voice through the door. "Dinner's ready."

"Not going," Vegeta replied immediately, tugging on his shirt. "Weakling…" he muttered.

Yamcha stood still for a moment, his eyes wide and his hand still raised to knock on the door, already seeing the possible outcomes: Bulma's crestfallen face after so much hard work; Bulma throwing a huge tantrum at Vegeta and confronting him; Bulma accusing Yamcha of harassing him. "Aw, come on, man- Bulma's been cooking all afternoon. It's… for you, I guess," he sighed.

Vegeta's eyes widened in surprise. _For me?_ He couldn't remember the last time she had cooked, much less the last time she had cooked without him screaming at her. _Perhaps this is one of the benefits of her 'friendship.'_ _A personal slave?_ Vegeta turned and advanced to the door. _I certainly won't be the female's friend, but I won't stop her from serving me. _Throwing the door open to reveal Yamcha's stunned face, he growled, "Move, boy. You're standing between the Prince of Saiyans and his food," and shoved past the scarred human.

Bulma set the table in the glassed patio, admiring the setting sun. Happily she turned- and immediately bumped into a solid chest. "_Vegeta!_" she gasped, bringing her hands to rest lightly on his pecs. "Don't _do_ that!" she said with a bubble of laughter caught in her throat as she teasingly pushed him away.

Vegeta stepped aside, since he barely even moved at her touch, revealing a gaping Yamcha standing in the entryway.

Hesitating and wiping her hands on her thighs nervously, Bulma said lightly "Oh good- we're all here," and flounced past the men towards the kitchen. "Yamcha, will you get the salad? And Vegeta- just go ahead and sit down."

With a growing smirk, the Saiyan mischievously slid his gaze to the offending man as he sat down. "It seems you're learning to serve me, boy. Following the woman's example?" he bated, tracing one of his sharp canines with his tongue.

His face clouding with anger, Yamcha opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Bulma's sharp interruption- "I can't carry all of this, you know!"- as she swept into the room, her arms laden with a massive mixing bowl filled with pasta, a basket of bread, and a pitcher of water. Even Vegeta was mildly impressed with her impeccable sense of balance as her hips swayed seductively with her tiny steps.

Begrudgingly, Yamcha left to grab the salad, and when he returned he found Bulma grating cheese on what he realized was Vegeta's pasta bowl itself. "You can go ahead and fix your plate," she told him without looking up. "I'll get mine in a second." In utter surprise, Yamcha brought his eyes to the Saiyan's to find him smugly smirking, leaning against the table towards Bulma. Still holding Yamcha's gaze, Vegeta carelessly brought his hand to her shoulder and picked up a lock of her hair, gently thumbing it between his thumb and forefingers. His eyes darkening maliciously, he slowly brought the lock to his nose, clearly demonstrating his ownership of the female.

Yamcha launched himself over the table with a howl of anger.

When Bulma opened her eyes again in confusion, she found a steely arm wrapped around her waist and her nose pressed to a muscular shoulder. "Ve… Vegeta?" she asked hesitantly as she struggled to pull her face away. "What -" Suddenly she saw that in his other hand the Prince held the neck of her boyfriend. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" she yelled hysterically as she saw the hatred flickering in Vegeta's ebony eyes and the blood rushing through Yamcha's choking face. "Let him GO!" she squealed as she struggled to pull his arm away from the human, clutching his biceps in vain.

"I don't often have the pleasure of killing someone twice," Vegeta hissed in reply, pulling her more to the side with his unyielding grip on her waist. "No one attacks the Prince of Saiyans without swift retribution." Bulma could see his hand tighten on Yamcha's neck as her boyfriend grappled with his wrist weakly. Never had she seen him in such a rage, not since Namek- and suddenly she realized that the Old Vegeta- the darker, more sinister Vegeta- still lay dormant in her houseguest, and her heart twisted in pain to remember the world from whence he came.

Immediately switching tactics, Bulma slid her palms up the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks gently. "Vegeta. VEGETA," she cooed, bringing her face to his till their noses barely brushed each other. "Calm down. _Please_ calm down." Still snarling, he brought his onyx eyes to her shimmering sapphires. "Please stop hurting him. For me? Please?" she begged gently, smoothing the sides of his face comfortingly. "Let him go, Vegeta," she said more forcefully, her eyes roaming the planes of his face. "Let him _go_."

His chest heaving and his nostrils flaring at her scent, Vegeta felt like Bulma had slapped him. Suddenly, his anger receded as he saw the gravity of her expression and felt the gentle touch of her hands on his cheeks. Her eyes were mesmerizing. With one last snarl at his prey, Vegeta released his neck, letting Yamcha fall to the floor with a thud and an agonized, wheezing cough. Slowly, he brought his eyes back to hers.

Bulma's breath caught in her throat as his gaze bored into her. She could clearly feel every place their bodies touched, from her thighs, to her hips, to his arm wrapped around her waist, to her breasts pushed against his thin shirt, to her hands cupping his face. Blushing furiously, she spun away from him to look at her boyfriend on the floor."_What the hell is going on here?_" she hissed, throwing her hands on her hips and glaring from one man to the other.

Vegeta shrugged noncommittally and grabbed the pasta bowl, which Bulma realized he had managed to save somewhere between Yamcha throwing himself at him and pulling her out of the way. Yamcha, on the other hand, was preoccupied on his hands and knees, coughing and wheezing. "Don't you move!" she snarled at Vegeta, pointing a finger in his face. "No eating until we get this fixed!"

"There's nothing… left… to fix," Yamcha gasped, struggling to rise. Bulma quickly leaned over and pulled him up by his arm.

"Do you need some water?" she asked softly.

With a cough, Yamcha pushed her away from him towards Vegeta. "I don't want to… even look at you," he rasped darkly, leaning over the table with a pained grimace on his face.

Bulma stumbled back, bumping into a very pissed Saiyan. "What are you talking about? All I tried to do was _fix a nice dinner_ and YOU GUYS can't keep your testosterone in your pants long enough to get along for _half an hour_!"

"You're talking to ME about keeping it in my pants? That's hilarious. That's just great," he yelled with a slightly maniacal gleam in his eyes. "Tell that to _him!"_

Bulma looked behind her at Vegeta in bewilderment. The Saiyan glared menacingly at Yamcha, growling, "I'm not the one who smells like three women at a time, boy."

Bulma ripped her eyes from Vegeta's back to Yamcha's. "_What is he talking about?_" she asked softly, anger rolling off of her in waves as she took a step forward, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Yamcha narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't do this, Bulma. You know women are around me all day at my job. Where do you get off taking advice from Vegeta, anyway?"

"He may be an ass but Vegeta doesn't lie," she retorted, advancing on him like a lion.

"I'm right here_,_ MORON," Vegeta said loudly.

"So you're on his side? BIG SURPRISE. You're always taking up for him- Vegeta can do no wrong! You dote on him _all day_ and can't do anything if it gets in the way of your 'Vegeta time!'"

"That's absolutely ridiculous!" she screeched, clenching her fists at her sides. "I'm _always_ around when you need me! And what the hell is 'Vegeta time' anyway, Yamcha?"

"Any time that he needs you!" he yelled back, leaning into it.

"The woman simply has her priorities straight," Vegeta said calmly, picking up a piece of bread and inspecting it.

Bulma rounded on him. "I SAID NO EATING!" she screamed in his face, snatching it from his fingers. "This is your fault too, Vegeta! Why do you have to antagonize everyone all the time?"

Vegeta reared his head back, surprised at the woman's outburst. "It's not my fault he's too weak to defend himself," he growled, crossing his arms.

"You're NOT ALLOWED to kill my friends!" she said, stomping her foot.

"How _old_ are you?" Vegeta asked incredulously.

"There it is again!" Yamcha groaned, slamming his hand on the table.

"_What?_" Bulma and Vegeta simultaneously yelled as they rounded on him.

"Friend," he sighed dejectedly, finally calming down. "Friend. You always call me your _friend._"

Relaxing a bit, Bulma looked at him in confusion. "You… are my friend."

"Yeah," he mumbled, "But so is Vegeta."

"Not even in an alternate universe," the Saiyan growled.

"_Shut up,_" Yamcha and Bulma snapped. Vegeta grumbled something unintelligible and nasty.

Sighing and crossing her arms, she continued. "I thought we went over this, Yamcha."

Yamcha observed her silently for a moment before he replied thoughtfully, "That's not the issue. I can… take it if you insist on being friends with him. What bothers me…" he paused as he shifted his stare to the sullen Saiyan behind her. "What bothers me is that you don't differentiate between us." Yamcha stopped, still afraid to ask the questions that plagued him.

"It's easy. I'm a royal Saiyan and he's a weak idiot."

Bulma ignored her houseguest and considered Yamcha's statement. For once in her life Bulma didn't have anything to say, and her mind buzzed with a sick, sinking feeling. Unbidden, tears began to pool behind her lids as she slowly saw her first love standing before her, his face clouding with despair. "What can I do?" she whispered helplessly, clasping her hands against her chest.

Yamcha smiled sadly and slowly stepped towards her, gently cupping her face in his hands. "Figure it out, B.," he murmured, gently kissing her on the forehead. Vegeta made a retching noise. "I'll be around," he continued, looking in her eyes, "But not until you know what you want." With that he pulled away, fixing Vegeta with a murderous glare as he picked up his jacket and left.

Bulma stood still. She couldn't stand the thought of not having Yamcha, nor could she stand to turn around and look Vegeta in the eye. _Pure mortification._

"I'm eating now," Vegeta said suddenly, grabbing the bowl. "I'm stronger than you and not even Kakarrot can stop me."

Bulma turned around in surprise. _Didn't he hear that whole exchange?_ "…Vegeta?" she asked hesitantly, every question in her mind voiced in that one word. The Saiyan looked up at her from the doorway of the living room. Bulma could feel her mind spinning with despair- _Oh God, oh God… He's gone_- but even so, every fragment of her wanted desperately to follow the Saiyan and fling herself into his arms for comfort. _What the hell kind of person am I?_ Guilt overran her mind, her stomach twisting in knots, and suddenly she felt like her head was lifting off her shoulders. "Vegeta- I think," she began, stretching out a trembling arm towards him. "I think… Vegeta…" she gasped out before her eyes rolled back and she began to crumple to the floor.

Vegeta caught her before she dropped a foot. "Woman!" he said loudly, shaking her roughly. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Bulma's head lulled back and forth, the only response she gave. Growling in irritation, Vegeta looked around for any interlopers before he hauled her up in his arms and took her to the couch, dropping her like a sac of flour. "Woman!" he repeated, grabbing her face for emphasis. "Where are you injured? WHERE ARE YOU INJURED?"

Bulma moaned a bit and he let her go, wiping his hand on his thigh. "Tell me where you're hurt or I'm leaving," he growled, surveying her for any outright damage. At his words her brain began to work again, the fog lifting from her eyes as she slowly opened them. Looming above her were his obsidian eyes, furrowed in frustration and glinting in confusion.

Instead of pointing or speaking as Vegeta assumed, he saw her lower lip begin to tremble and her eyes begin to sparkle with tears. "Woman, where did he hurt you?" he repeated again, furious that somehow he hadn't been able to pull her out of the way fast enough.

Tears began to spill from her eyes and Bulma hiccupped as she felt pain rip through her chest. "H-Here," she said mournfully, putting her hand on her chest beneath her neck. "It hurts so much," she cried, suddenly throwing her arms around his neck and pulling herself to his shoulder to bawl helplessly against him.

Vegeta froze. Not since being with Frieza had he been so uncomfortable. _What the hell am I supposed to do with this?_ He wondered wildly, placing his hands on her arms to gently tug her away, but her increased fervor and uncontrollable trembling caused him to stay his hand. Never before had he seen her so upset that she couldn't function; moreover, never had she touched him that way. How she clung to him so tightly, her face pressed against his chest, her breath fanning his neck…

"I- don't- think- I… I…" she bawled, her breath hitching, "I don't- love him!" she strangled out, her fingers clutching his shirt tightly, tears cascading down her cheeks into her hair and his chest.

Rolling his eyes at her words, Vegeta leaned over and let gravity pull her down away from him. Bulma fell back and covered her face with her hands, hiccupping in shame and despair. "I'm so- so- _sorry_!" she wailed. "I don't usually- _do this_."

For the first time in years, Vegeta felt something stir in his chest- a tiny, miniscule feeling, but so foreign that he felt like a stranger to himself. "Woman- shut up," he said softly, grabbing her hands away from her face. Bulma stared up at him, her eyes unimaginably large and blue, the tip of her nose pink and salty trails winding down her cheeks. "You'll be fine. Just- stop that wailing," he said uncomfortably, his eyes raking over her face.

Bulma blinked up at him and sniffled weakly. _I think… Vegeta just comforted me_, she thought in amazement. "Okay," she whispered hoarsely, nodding like a little child. She hesitated for a moment, staring into his eyes. "Thanks, 'Geta."

Vegeta declined his head to show his acknowledgement and quickly stood up. "I'm eating now," he said gruffly, looking away from her. "You may partake of some of it."

Bulma smiled weakly as he returned to the kitchen. At least she knew somewhere deep, _deep_ down inside of him, Vegeta cared.

And that was enough for her to wake up in the morning.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please PLEASE review!


	4. Promises

A/N: In honor of Valentine's Day…

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 4: Promises

Vibrant blue eyes opened lazily at the sun peeking through her heavy curtains. Blearily, Bulma wondered what time it was and threw her hand over the crystal clock at her bedside table, dragging it towards her. _Ah. Ten o'clock… TEN??_ Bulma rocketed out of bed. Never since the Prince had moved in with them had she slept later than six-thirty or seven, and that was on his off-days. He was… Bulma paused as she threw on her short, pink silk robe. He was her never-failing alarm clock. _I wonder if he's sick?_

Rushing down the stairs, Bulma mentally went through her list of things to do that day and rubbed her eyes none too gently. _What is wrong with me? I can barely open them and I slept all morning…_ As she softly padded into the kitchen on her tiny bare feet, Bulma scanned the room for any sign of the Saiyan. Normally if Bulma hadn't been able to fix him breakfast he'd utterly destroy the counters and refrigerator with spatters and gore of leftover food. This morning they were immaculate.

"Vegeta?" she called hoarsely as she walked out to the gravity room, "Are you okay in there?"

Moments later she heard the power turn off. "About time, Woman," he said gruffly as he opened the door. "I…" Vegeta trailed off, his eyes widening at her appearance.

Bulma smoothed her hair nervously. "Is something wrong?"

"What the _hell_ happened to you?" he asked incredulously.

Blanching, Bulma stared at him a moment before she ran back into the house, skidding into the bathroom off the kitchen. Vegeta smirked as he heard a shrill scream emanating from the house. "What's wrong with my eyes?! I look like a… an owl or something!"

"I hope that doesn't impede your already-lacking cooking skills, Woman, because I haven't eaten all day," he said as he entered the kitchen and began to rummage around.

"I- I don't understand," she sniffled as she came in after him. "Why are they so puffy and swollen?"

"Probably from all that caterwauling you did last night."

Freezing in her steps, Bulma gripped the counter top as all the night's events came rushing back to her. _Yamcha… he's gone. And Vegeta…_ she looked up at him as he leaned against the counter, watching her intently. _He was so kind in his own way._ "Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked softly, straightening her shoulders.

Vegeta didn't answer her.

Slowly walking around the counter to his side, Bulma slinked up to his side and gently placed her hand on his arm. "Hey you. Were you being sweet to me?" she wheedled, flashing him a brilliantly sweet smile.

"Your eyes are even more frightening at this distance."

Bulma sighed, rolling her eyes and turning away to the oven. "Omlette?" she asked, bending down to get out a pan.

Vegeta's gaze followed her shapely bottom, her lacy white underwear peeking out beneath the short robe. Immediately he felt his groin tighten. "At least eight," he muttered as he tore his eyes from her and sat at the table. "And then check the GR. I think it's malfunctioning again."

"Yes, your majesty," she sang sarcastically. "Your wish is my command."

Vegeta smirked. "That's more like it, Woman." Of course, then he had to dodge the pan that flew at his head.

***

"What the hell is wrong with these plants, Woman? They haven't grown a bit."

Standing sullenly with his arms characteristically crossed in front, Vegeta dug the fresh dirt before him with his shoe idly. "Perhaps those other scientists of yours have malfunctioned."

"They're not robots, Vegeta," Bulma laughed as she bent down to check on the seeds, "And these plants have too grown. The sprouts are beneath the ground right now, but I'm sure they'll be out in a few days." Standing up, she shaded her eyes as she grinned up at him, her pearly white teeth gleaming. "Don't worry- I keep my promises. You'll get your vegetables soon enough."

Vegeta looked away from her glowing visage. Sometimes it simply pained him to see such happiness. He didn't know quite what to do with it. "You're such a bizarre female," he muttered, turning away towards the GR.

Looking after him with slight consternation, Bulma replied, "Why? Does it bother you that I like you?"

"It bothers me that you breathe," he retorted, walking away.

"Just because you're a completely arrogant jerk doesn't mean I have to hate you!" she yelled after him.

Vegeta smirked. "But you should."

Crossing her arms with an agitated frown, Bulma stared after him with narrowed eyes. They were going to be friends whether he liked it or not, and that was final._ Bulma Briefs always gets her way._

***

Bulma sat dejectedly on a boulder and waited for Krillen and Gohan to return. _This Dragonball sure is a lot of trouble…_ Shifting, she gazed into the Namekian sky with boredom.

"What do we have here?" came a deep rasp from behind her. Bulma shot off of the rock in surprise, stumbling and landing on her behind as she gazed up at Vegeta, his face and clothes dirtied and ripped.

"Oh goodness Vegeta- you almost gave me a freaking heart attack! Don't do that creeping-up thing!" she yelled in relief, her hand on her heart. "Where the heck have you been?"

The Prince stared down at her in slight confusion, a scowl etched across his brow. "What the hell are you going on about, Earthling? Give me the ball so that I might spare you a gruesome death."

Bulma blinked stupidly. "W… What? What's wrong with you, Geta?"

Vegeta reared his head back, his teeth bared in outrage. "_What did you just call me?_ Woman, I am the Prince of all Saiyans, and should be addressed as such! You shall DIE for your impudence!" Vegeta snarled, raising his hand to her face.

"Wait!" she wailed, cowering closer to the ground. "Vegeta- it's me! It's Bulma! Your friend!"

"You're completely delusional, female," he growled, his dark eyes looming ever closer to her and a blinding light gathering in his palm. "Now hold still- this might hurt a bit."

"No! Vegeta!" she screamed as tears coursed down her cheeks. "Vegeta! Don't- please! VEGETA!" Over and over she wailed his name, desperately clinging to one of his legs. "_Vegeta!"_ She could feel him shaking her off, shaking and shaking…

"Wake the fuck up!" he yelled at her.

Bulma opened her eyes to find Vegeta grasping her arms, glaring into her eyes. Screaming, she ripped herself away from him, scrambling over the bed until she dropped off to the other side. Leaning against the bed, she grasped her thin camisole over her heart that slammed against her chest earnestly. "Just a dream," she gasped as tears continued to spill from her eyes. "Just a dream…" She found that she couldn't stop shaking.

Vegeta watched her in slight shock as Bulma catapulted herself over the bed. He had heard tiny mewling sounds as he passed her room, and as he glanced through the cracked door he saw her thrashing and yelling his name. In alarm and bewilderment Vegeta entered, and when he realized she was dreaming about him (Kami only knew what) he decided to wake her. "Woman," he said, walking around to the other side of the bed, "What the hell are you going on about?"

Bulma looked up at him from her sprawled position against the bed. "I… I was just dreaming, Geta," she said, and shivered as she remembered speaking the nickname in her dream.

"Obviously," he snorted. "Calling my name again, eh?" he bated, a wicked smirk settling over his mouth.

With a trembling of her lips, Bulma hiccupped and then launched off the floor and ran into his arms, hugging his waist tightly and nuzzling her face into his neck. Surprised yet again at her actions, Vegeta held his arms out to the side in disgust. "I dreamed about the Old You," she choked out as Vegeta looked around for an escape route. "We were on Namek and… and…" she sniffled, shedding fresh tears.

Vegeta finally looked down at her in hesitation. "What are you talking about- the _Old Me_? I am exactly the same woman," he growled.

Bulma shifted and stared up at him with wide, blue eyes. "You were about to kill me," she whispered, capturing his onyx gaze.

Suddenly, Vegeta felt very uncomfortable. "I am always about to kill you, Woman."

"The Old Vegeta would never let me hug him," she said softly, a stray tear winding down her cheek.

"I- I'm not!" he said indignantly, pushing her away from him. "You attacked me!"

"The Old Vegeta didn't like me," she continued, clasping her hands at her chest innocently.

"I HATE YOU!" he yelled, the muscles in his neck bulging. "When I defeat Kakarrot I will have no trouble in demolishing this planet with all of you in it!"

Smiling sadly, Bulma tilted her head and replied, "You can't kill your friends, Vegeta."

"YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND!" he roared, his fists flying up to his waist.

Bulma ignored him and turned to look out her massive French doors at the moon. "What hurt the most was that you didn't know me," she murmured, tracing her lip with a finger absently. "You didn't know anything about us."

"There _is_ no 'us,' Woman," he growled, crossing his arms sullenly.

"Sure there is," she replied thoughtfully. "We eat meals together. We watch TV together. I mean, we even have a garden together." Slightly mollified, she turned to him again to see his blank face of mortification. "Even Yamcha and I didn't spend that much time together. I guess we're kind of like best friends, Geta."

Vegeta's jaw stood agape. "You. Are. Insane."

"Promise you won't even think about killing me," she said softly, ignoring his irritation and advancing toward him. "Promise that you'll never forget me. I promise to always be loyal to you," she continued as she looked into his eyes intently. "And I'll always remember you."

Vegeta stood silently, observing the beautiful Venus before him. _Sounds like a lover's token,_ part of him scoffed. The other part of him, the very tiny part, roared for the attention she gave him; the loyalty deserving a Prince; the memory of a race that might someday be forgotten; the sincerity in her eyes. Never had anyone offered him this. Vegeta's eyebrows hedged further together. _She is a temptress._

At his silence and struggling face, Bulma once again slid her arms about his trim waist and softly laid her head against his shoulder. "I don't expect anything from you," she whispered against his neck, "I just like having you around."

Vegeta felt a swelling in his chest unlike any other he had experienced. He couldn't put a name to it, but he felt his throat constrict and his mind soar away. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and whispered huskily, "I accept."

Bulma smiled against his chest, reveling in the feeling of his warm, firm body. After a moment, she looked up again and said playfully, "Don't worry Vegeta. I'll teach you how to hug one day."

Rolling his eyes, he extricated himself from her arms and moved to the door. "Don't bet on it. You've gained enough ground already," he grumbled, his hand on the doorknob. "And would you fucking shut up? Next time I'm letting you get killed."

"Manners, Prince," she taunted with a smirk of her own as she climbed back into bed.

As she saw him shut the door behind him, Bulma could have sworn she heard him mutter something much more abrasive. _That's my Saiyan,_ she thought as she drifted off to sleep again.

***

Bulma counted herself lucky that she had her own house apart from her parents. Well, her own house plus Vegeta, but that was a totally different matter. In fact, she had the best of both worlds: while she lived in the main building and had plenty of privacy along with access to the labs, her parents had inhabited a small house on the other end of the property and visited most every day, usually accompanied by fabulous meals. This particular morning Bulma found her mother sprucing up the living room with massive floral arrangements of brilliant orange, pink and purple hues.

"You ready for the big party?" Bulma asked, leaning casually against the wall with her hands in her pockets.

Bunny looked up with a huge smile plastered on her face. "This is one of my very favorites!" she giggled. "Our Summer Soiree! The flowers! The punch! The dresses!"

"The bathing suits," Bulma added with a grin.

"And yours is most certainly always the best, dear. Did you get one for Mr. Vegeta?"

Bulma frowned. "I don't think he does the whole human interaction thing, Mom." _Considering he's not human…_

"Don't do that to your face, honey- You'll start to look old. You _have_ invited him, haven't you?"

Pushing herself off the wall, Bulma made to leave. "He knows about it," she hedged slyly. "I just don't want him to get attacked by swarms of women and photographers."

Bunny looked at her daughter curiously. "Sounds like you just want the handsome man all to yourself. Let him have a little fun!"

"You're _way_ off track, Mom," she groaned. "I just don't want him to kill anyone. He only has patience for those he knows well, and even then he's a ticking time bomb."

"Well I'm only letting Frank Holliday take pictures this year, dear, so no more swarming photographers, and if _you_ just stay by his side no woman would dare approach him. You know perfectly well you're always the most ravishing creature here." Bunny clasped her hands together happily. "Just think of the babies you two could make!"

"Yeah- scary monkey freaks with blue hair," Bulma muttered as she left her mother.

"You'd better invite Mr. Vegeta!" Bunny called after her.

"To what?" came a rasp behind Bulma, who jumped a foot in the air.

"Ack! Why do you _always_ do that!" she said crossly, slapping him lightly on the arm. "Be normal and just say 'hi!' for once!"

Smirking boldly as he leaned against the counter, Vegeta eyed her up. "Invite me to what? You look worse than usual."

Bulma stuck her tongue out. "I'll have you know that my makeup and hair people haven't arrived yet. That only happens right before the party- the Summer Soiree." Bulma thought for a moment. "I think you were in space last time we had it." Actually, Vegeta had been noticeably absent anytime more than four guests appeared, and that cut him out of the last five or six parties over the last year.

"What the hell is a Soiree?" he asked with a grimace as though he had eaten a slug.

Sighing, Bulma replied, "And when are you going to clean up your language a little? A soiree is a fancy word for a party." Turning away from him towards the cabinet, she added, "You wouldn't be interested in it."

Vegeta's countenance darkened. "Who are you to decide what I am or am not interested in, Woman?" he growled.

Looking up with wide eyes, she said, "Vegeta, you _hate_ people. When was the last time you wanted to be around anyone other than me?"

"First of all," he ground out sourly, "I want nothing to do with you. You are delusional. Secondly, you forget that I do many things to piss you off, and if this will, then I'm all in. Third, you have neglected to inform me of the activities for this… soiree."

Raising a fine eyebrow and putting a hand on her hip, Bulma wondered what could possibly be evoking this reaction in her Prince. "Well, at first there's a swimming time where you don't necessarily have to swim but mostly just show off your bathing suit, and then there's a downtime hour or so when all the attendants get primped for the next few hours in the ballroom." Bulma paused to observe his face, which betrayed no feelings. "Then we dance and chat for a few hours. And show off our dresses, of course."

"Who attends this affair?"

"Truthfully? The Elite of society. Major scientists and politicians, the wealthy investors, a few starlets… Everyone you generally hate, actually."

Vegeta pondered her words for a moment. "I am the Elite here, female. As Prince of Vegetasai I have an obligation to represent our race at this petty human event."

Eyebrows whisking into her hairline, Bulma replied, "Well if you really want to go, then of course you can. I'll send my designer over to help you out. And on second thought," she added, tilting her head thoughtfully and sizing him up, "You can be my date."

Vegeta snorted loudly. "As if you could make me, female."

"Well you say you're the Elite Male, and I'm most certainly the Elite Female, so it only makes sense that we accompany one another. Plus, you ran my date off the other night," she continued with a slight frown, "And now I'm left alone as the hostess. It's practically your duty, Prince. Oh, and I have to make sure you don't kill any guests."

Vegeta grimaced and glanced sidelong at her. _This woman is too clever for her own good. Perhaps she's a little bit right… I wouldn't want to be left alone with the human creatures. How irritating._ "I MIGHT accompany you, Woman," he finally said begrudgingly, "As long as you don't act as whorish as you usually do. I can't have a harlot draped across my arm."

"As if you don't know what that's like," she said condescendingly. "I know for a fact I will be the most beautiful woman there, and you are lucky to be with _me_, buddy."

Vegeta turned from her. "You'd better live up to that," he said huskily as he threw his towel across his shoulder and left for the GR.

For some reason unknown to her, Bulma shivered.

A/N: Okay, reviews keep me going. Review and I'll repost. There's no reason to write if no one's reading it…


	5. Perfume of the Night

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers for the last chapter – QAM_Stu, VeggieBlueRaven, mushi6618, Phoenixarrow, and Dementa. You are wonderful!

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 5: Perfume of the Night

Paulo left her side with a wistful sigh, regretting that he had to let the ravishing woman go. There was always an opportunity to improve his work, but if she was ready… He cocked his head, one finger placed delicately to his cheek. "You look stunningly vintage," he said smugly. "I'm glad you decided to let your hair grow out after last year's disco-fever."

Bulma laughed, tossing her cerulean locks as she roguishly grinned at her faithful designer over her shoulder. "You liked it then, buddy. This, however, is indefinitely better," she mused as she ran her hand up her trim thighs, admiring her hair. Paulo had pulled it back atop her head, wrapping a large section around the base of her high ponytail and letting the rest fall in massive, gentle curls across the top of her shoulders. The top was slightly bouffant, making her look simply-

"Fabulous!" he groaned in ecstasy, falling dramatically on her chez lounge. "Simply fabulous. And _that_ suit with _your_ body? You'll be on the cover of every magazine next month! God- how are we going to keep the men and cameras off of you!"

"Vegeta," she said simply with a smile, turning to admire her figure. Paulo was definitely worth his weight in gold. The red-orange bathing suit contrasted violently with her hair, but made her cyan mane look more stunning, more intensely colored. The material looked akin to loose silk, and the top bunched up behind her neck, flaring out to cover her breasts, but falling in two straight lines down her torso until it united beneath her belly button and dangerously close to her blue curls beneath. Wrapping thinly around her hips, the suit flared out once more to cover her buttocks.

Bulma reasoned this one-piece had more material than the average bikini, so not too slutty for Vegeta, right?

As if on cue, Paulo laughed, "Oh honey, you are just going to blow that poor man _away_! And God- what a man he is! Where in the world did you find him?"

"Not in this world…" she muttered.

"Well let me tell you something, I took his measurements- do you know how huge those muscles are?" he exclaimed, waving a hand in the air. "I just want to know if _all_ those muscles are that big- if you know what I mean," he said suggestively.

Bulma blushed furiously, knowing that she had thought the same thing once before. "I'm sure he's – fine," she finished lamely. "Did you get him ready too?"

"Apparently he only likes navy," he sighed dejectedly. "The most he let me get away with was a small, repeating diamond pattern in a lighter blue. You can barely see it across the room!" he moaned. "And do you know what else? He barely let me get near him unless I needed a measurement, and even then he flinched like I was going to bite him!"

Bulma smiled happily, crossing her arms. "He's just a little over-protective, Paulo. He'll get used to you, don't worry. I fully intend on enlisting your services to make him some better clothes."

"Anything to get my hands on that Adonis," Paulo sighed. "Now you need to scoot, honey. Slip these on," he said, handing her a pair of short, strappy heels, "And go grab your man. You'll still be shorter in these than he is, but you're wearing flats to the dance."

A knock on the door interrupted Bulma's reply as she put on the heels. "Woman?" came a gruff voice from the other side. "I look ridiculous. Is it normal for you people to wear undergarments to these occasions?"

Straightening up with a smile, Bulma said, "Come in, Geta. It's less revealing than your spandex shorts, you know."

"_He wears spandex shorts??"_ Paulo hissed excitedly in her ear.

As the doorknob turned, Bulma suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Was he going to like her suit? Was she getting fat?

Paulo read her thoughts from years of experience. "You look gorgeous," he mouthed as he stepped away from her.

With an uneasy look about his surroundings, Vegeta stepped through the doorway and froze when he saw the bewitching goddess before him. Bulma stood rigidly in slight embarrassment, her eyes downcast demurely before she looked him in the eyes and found utter appreciation as his wide gaze scorched down her figure, lingering at the valley of her breasts, the V pointing to her inmost parts, and her long, pearly legs. Wrenching his eyes from her body, Vegeta met her gaze with a pink tinge to his cheeks. "What the hell are you doing dressing like that?" he choked out, clenching his fists. "All the – _everyone_ is going to see you!

Bulma blinked innocently. "It's just a bathing suit, Vegeta. I'm sure most people will be wearing similar things," she replied, suddenly fierce. "I look amazing, and I know it," she said like a mantra.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his bare chest and glared pointedly at the designer who shrunk away slightly at his piercing look. "You put her in this," he growled bitterly.

With a nervous smile, Paulo scooted around the Saiyan and fled out the door.

Jumping in, Bulma retorted, "Hey, Vegeta, you're the one who wanted me to look good and here I am. Paulo is the best designer in the _world_!" She sauntered over to the bronzed warrior and poked him squarely in the chest. "And for your information, _I_ choose how to dress myself, not _you_, so just shut your trap and tell me I look good!"

Upon realizing that Bulma was both insulting and taunting him, Vegeta smirked. He loved it when she got feisty. "You look moderately acceptable… for a human," he countered, looking down into her eyes.

With a slight pause, Bulma regained her composure and smiled widely. "That's the sweetest thing you've said to me all day, Geta! Now," she continued, turning as Vegeta's smirk fell from his face, "I know you've got a sensitive nose, so you get to pick which perfume I wear tonight. Aren't I gracious?"

Vegeta stiffened. "You're putting a… scent on yourself?"

"I wear them all the time," she mused as she picked through her crystal bottles and grabbed her favorite ones, "You just aren't forced to be around me that often when I wear them. Here – smell these."

With a wrinkle of his nose and a grimace, Vegeta delicately pinched the first bottle and brought it to his nose. "Feh," he coughed, "Why put yourself through this? You smell fine on your own to me."

A curious, tingly feeling shot down her spine. "Well, thanks, Vegeta," she said bashfully at his unwitting compliment, "But I – women in general – like to wear different scents because we can't smell people the way you can."

"You mean you don't smell my scent?" he asked in bewilderment as he lifted another bottle to his nose.

_Well we're not all barbarians, Vegeta._ "I mean, I guess I can a little. Mostly if we're up close… but you do, uh, smell different that other men," she continued in embarrassment.

Vegeta snorted. "Of course I do. I'm a Saiyan. Each of us develops a certain scent to attract our mates – and mine has been passed down from the royal line." He put down the bottle and chose a different one. "I cannot believe that you humans can barely smell our scents! It's how Saiyans tell each other apart – other than by ki, of course."

"Oh. Do you tell _us_ apart by scent?"

"Certainly. I always know where you are or where you've been," he said gruffly, "Or where your mate has been."

Bulma blanched, torn between his obvious attention to her and his mention of Yamcha's indescretions. "You, uh – what? How much… often?" she asked softly.

As he handed her the chosen perfume, Vegeta knew what she meant. "Enough," he muttered begrudgingly. "I would have killed him for it, but I do not think that is the earth custom."

Bulma's eyes widened as she was taken aback by his protectiveness. Clutching the vial to her chest, she asked softly, "Why?"

"Do not take it as a compliment, Woman," he said as he rolled his eyes. "On Vegetasai we do – did – not betray our mates. He should be killed only because your class is higher than his."

Again, Bulma wondered if he knew he was complimenting her. _Probably not._ "Did you ever have a mate?" she asked hesitantly, looking down at her perfume.

"I wouldn't be accompanying you if I had a mate," he replied coldly, moving away from her. "We mate for life."

Bulma looked up at him, feeling like a balloon was swelling in her chest. "Well, looks like we're in the same boat then," she said evenly. Turning away, she dabbed the scent onto her pressure points. Fresh, with a hint of some sweet flower…

"Hurry up, Woman," he said brusquely as his eyes raked over her form again, "There are many people here now."

"Done," she sighed, suddenly very nervous about the whole affair. Gliding over to the Saiyan, she took his arm and wrapped it in hers. "Do you think you could call me by my name tonight? It's kind of embarrassing to be referred to as 'female' or 'woman' around people who are supposed to respect you," she said coyly, her light pink lips pursing together.

Vegeta was momentarily distracted by her beauty.

"Thanks!" she said happily with a squeeze of his arm. "Let's go knock 'em dead!"

As she pulled the disgruntled Saiyan towards the door, he muttered, "I've been waiting to do that for a year…"

***

While Mr. Kama and Mr. Gunter blathered on about their businesses' competing stocks, Bulma watched Vegeta as he waited rather patiently for two more flutes of champagne at the bar. He had been absolutely perfect. The moment they had stepped out onto the patio together, all eyes had turned their way in astonishment, envy, and awe: The two were simply mythical. Perfectly sculpted, bronze muscles paired with lean, ivory curves, like a pair of ancient gods – Mars and Venus sprung to life.

Guests watched in wonder as Bulma swooped from couple to couple, group to group with her elegant, attractive date always at her side, the two never staying too long in one place. Bulma made sure that Vegeta was introduced politely and promptly, and lingered enough to let him get a few comments in before it got to the awkward stage, and then they would move on. With keen eyes, she had watched as women raked their eyes down his form in wonder and slid their stare to her body in jealousy. Bulma had laughed to herself the entire evening… _They must like those extra Saiyan muscles._

Not a single man looked as virile, as dangerous, or as brutally handsome as Vegeta did. Her eyes traveled down the length of his back as every muscle rippled at his tiny movements._ And those shorts…_ Paulo had a done a fabulous job and, as promised, the shorts melded to his brawny legs and hung snuggly beneath his tapered hips, slightly lower than decency required. Bulma blushed and looked away to the gaggle of women whispering excitedly near Vegeta. Her eyes narrowed as two of them pushed one bikini-clad brunette over towards the Saiyan, who turned towards the woman as she stumbled towards him. Twirling her hair and obviously giggling, the woman reached out flirtatiously while speaking and placed her hand on his arm. Suddenly, Bulma felt like the room was spinning as her stomach heaved and twisted in disgust.

As she was about to look away, Vegeta turned and locked his gaze with Bulma, who gasped sharply and stiffened. Without breaking eye contact with the blue-haired genius, Vegeta coldly brushed the woman's hand away, grabbed the two flutes, and walked purposely across the patio towards his date. Bulma saw the look of horror on the other woman's face and felt her own stomach clench in anticipation as Vegeta neared her. She vaguely heard the men next to her cease their conversation.

"Bulma," Vegeta said huskily with a nod of acknowledgement as he handed her the champagne. She felt her mouth go dry at his intense stare and felt the eyes of the men on her back.

"Gentlemen, thank you for your company," she said smoothly, finally looking away to their surprised and curious faces. With that, she returned her eyes to the dominating Saiyan and demurely slipped her arm through his, leading him away from the crowd.

Both were silent as they slowly strolled towards the meadow where, darkened by the night, their little garden lay beneath the looming oak tree. Slowly they stopped, both reflecting to themselves and gazing out across the landscape, the city lights twinkling in the far distance.

_The woman is bewitching_, Vegeta thought to himself with a troubled mind. He had barely been able to take his eyes of her the entire evening, and there was still half the party left to be able to make a fool out of himself. Not in his life had he ever seen such voluptuous breasts, such alluring eyes, such plump lips, such feminine curves… He couldn't remember much of his home-planet females, but he what he did remember reminded him of his own physique, or Kakarrot's mate. This female was gentle, inviting, witty, and she _laughed_ at him. That attribute Vegeta thought was the most attractive thing about her. Used as a tool for cruelty and ridicule, laughter had been employed against him by Frieza and his crew Vegeta's entire childhood, but Bulma… Bulma made him feel wanted. For the first time in his life, Vegeta felt like someone enjoyed his presence, and even though it sickened him to think that he might like it, Vegeta realized that he couldn't control himself. It was weak, but he… he relished in the way she made him feel.

"Thank you," Vegeta mumbled almost incoherently as he pulled his arms to his chest and gently forced her to drop her grasp, "I thought I was going to have to kill that… dirty female."

Bulma watched him carefully from his side. "I thought you might need some air." They were both silent a moment before she continued. "You've been a great date tonight, you know. Thanks, Geta."

Even though he felt his heart constrict with some form of happiness, he grumpily replied, "When the hell does it end?"

Bulma's tinkling laugh rang across the yard as she turned him around and began the trek back to the party. "Don't worry – we'll be changing soon for the dance. It's getting a bit nippy."

Shrewd, onyx eyes glanced down at the voluptuous chest next to him. "I see," he remarked with a smirk as he looked back to the party.

"Don't be a jerk!" she squeaked in mortification as she socked his arm, her face blushing prettily as they moved back into the light of the patio.

Before he could reply, someone stepped out from behind the large shrubbery and blocked their path. Bulma jumped back in surprise, causing Vegeta to grab her by her upper arms.

"Yamcha!" she gasped, putting her hand between the slips of material at her chest, "I thought you weren't coming!" _I had hoped you weren't coming…_ Bulma still didn't know what to make of him yet. Vegeta clutched her arms tighter, a rumble or warning erupting from his chest. He wasn't so sure where this anger flowed from, but he knew it couldn't be good.

Bulma's ex-boyfriend glanced between the faces before him. "Yeah, I wasn't going to, but it's been tough… not seeing you."

"I've been fine without you, thanks," Vegeta growled. "You can leave now."

"_Vegeta – that hurts_," she hissed up at him. In surprise, Vegeta released her and took a step back.

Yamcha's face darkened with a scowl. "Enjoying the company?"

"Vegeta's been a very nice date," Bulma replied in a small voice, rubbing her arms uncomfortably.

"How _nice_, Bulma?" he asked angrily, reaching over to grasp her arm and pull her towards him. As she stumbled forward, suddenly a muscled arm shot out and grabbed her waist. Bulma sucked in as fire licked its way through her abdomen.

"Don't touch her, boy," Vegeta snarled, yanking Yamcha's other arm away. "Not unless she shrieks at you to."

"I – I'm not ready for this," Bulma stammered wildly, wrenching herself away from them towards the patio. Before she knew it she stumbled into the arms of her mother, clad in a polka-dotted one-piece with a skirt.

"Sweetheart, are you having a good time? It's almost time for you to get ready for the dance!" she twittered happily as she squeezed her daughter to her chest in a tight hug. Instead of answering, Bulma looked over her bare shoulder to the two men glowering at the edge of the shadows. "Oh, hello there, Yammi!" Bunny chirped. "I had no idea you were here! Are you going to the dance too?"

Stepping out towards the pair, the scarred man replied softly, "Only if your beautiful daughter will deign to dance with me."

"Of course she will, dear!" the blonde said blithely while ignoring Bulma's frantic eyes, "Save one for me, as usual. Oh Vegeta!" she added, tilting her head at the murderous eyes of the Saiyan, "I can't _wait_ to dance with you! Oh, to be in your strong, virile arms…"

"I think I'm going to be sick," Bulma mumbled as she pulled away from her mother.

"Don't forget your date, dear!" Bulma winced as both men moved towards her. "Yammi, why don't I introduce you to my friend Fred Trimble," she continued, taking advantage of his movement, "Because he's also a huge fan of baseball…"

Like a stone had dropped in her stomach, Bulma felt guilt settle in her as Yamcha mournfully looked her way, and then glared as Vegeta took his place by her side. "Have fun, _Weakling_," Vegeta uttered scornfully as he returned the scowl.

Sighing in irritation, Bulma put her head in her hands as she heard Paulo calling to her across the patio. "What a nightmare…" she muttered.

"I'll say. What the hell is that woman you call a mother wearing?"

**A/N: Thank you to all those who read and review- it makes it worth it! Drum roll please… time for the ballroom dancing!**


	6. Eye of the Beholder

**A/N: It's great to get reviews… la la la…**

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 6: Eye of the Beholder

Standing grandly before a full-length mirror, tugging on his black bow tie and appraising his finely-tailored tuxedo, the Prince of All Saiyans wondered what his father would say if he saw him now as he waited for Paulo to finish primping the female in the room next door. _"Weak,"_ he remembered hearing the old man mutter one evening long ago when the two stood outside the queen's door for the last royal ball they ever attended together, _"The Saiyan King waits for no one, son."_ The king had raised his fist to the door, but a quiet voice within had stalled his movement. _"I know you two are there, but if you interrupt me now you will ever get to see the most beautiful woman on the planet."_ With a smirk and a glint in his eye, the old man had sheepishly looked down upon the little prince. _"…I had forgotten, though, the courage it takes to deny one's mate."_ Vegeta had looked up at his father in wonder. What could possibly move his father to cowardice – especially from a woman?

Vegeta had gotten his answer when the door creaked open moments later, his mother stepping out before him in all her radiant glory as her aura flickered about her and her coal-black hair blew about her face. Even he was not immune to her power or her enigmatic, violet eyes, and his stomach clenched with something akin to fear or awe. He looked up at his father in wonder and saw the old man's face change, his scowl dropping and his eyes widening. _"My warriors,"_ she had crooned softly, looking between their faces with unabashed affection, _"Have you learned some patience now?"_ The old man reached out and pulled the smaller female to his chest with a possessive growl as he began to nuzzle her neck. _"The boy will never learn patience, my queen."_ She had laughed, pushing off of him to kneel down before Vegeta and cup his chubby cheeks in her palms. _"No, not now – but one day,"_ she said softly, searching her son's eyes with a piercing gaze, _"Some woman will tame you and teach you a little humility, Vegeta, and she will be the greatest opponent you will ever face – and lose to."_ His father had said something scathing in response, but all Vegeta could remember was his mother's unwavering gaze and lilting voice…

A rustle at his side stirred the Prince from his ruminations. "Vegeta?" Bulma said quietly as she stepped into the room that was mostly empty aside from the Saiyan, the mirror, and the antique furniture. Vegeta turned his head towards her, and the frail human was forced to admire his unyielding physique, his dark gaze, and his royal composure. "Are you… are you ready?"

Vegeta thought his heart might have stopped as he turned his head towards the woman before him. He could have sworn – but it was the blue-haired female, not his mother. The two looked nothing alike, but for the first time the Prince of All Saiyans was humbled by the beauty and vibrancy the two women shared, and even their personalities – so fierce one moment and tender the next – had the same spark. No crackling aura surrounded the woman, but her presence was no less potent. As she moved, the soft-pink gown clung to her chest and waist, falling from there in silky layers of tulle that brushed the ground behind her in a short train, and her blue hair had been curled and pinned in a wild updo to the back of her head.

"Vegeta?" she repeated at his stunned visage, secretly pleased that her appearance caused this internal struggle in him. Stopping before him, her rosy features stood starkly next to his dusky, bronze face, and her heart soared as she smelled his unmistakable masculine aroma. _Perhaps there's something to be said for that 'royal Saiyan scent' after all…_ "You look quite handsome," she said softly with a sweet smile. "Just like a Prince."

With a snort, Vegeta looked back to the mirror. "I've seen your ideas of Princes, Bulma, and none of them include genocide," he muttered darkly, eyeing his figure again.

His words broke her heart. Without hesitation she moved behind him and brought an arm up around his chest to clutch his shoulder, ignoring his heavy flinch; then, with a crooked smile, she laid her head on his shoulder against his. "Maybe not. But you can _fly_," she cajoled happily, "And who wants a smelly white horse anyway?"

No woman before had been able to be in such a position with him – not since his mother. His eyes widened at her radiant expression and her apparent comfort with him, and he searched her gaze in the mirror. Was she… accepting him? Only mates spoke to each other that way. His dry mouth kept him from answering.

Blushing at his loss of words, Bulma pulled away as she grabbed his hand in hers, saying, "Cheer up, Geta! We are going to be the most beautiful people at the dance – and you have yet to tell me I look beautiful!"

"Has Hell frozen over yet?" he replied with a smirk, his usual confidence returning.

A taunting smile touching her lips, she retorted, "Could have. Why don't you go check, jerk?"

Vegeta let her lead him by the hand out into the hallway, his stomach twisting into knots at her touch. With a nervous smile thrown over her shoulder at him, Bulma brought him to a stop behind her parents who waited before the massive carved double doors that opened to the center of the ballroom ahead. Bunny tilted her head, squealing, "Oh there you two are! Bulma, dear – you look just as stunning as you could be! And Mr. Vegeta you need to wear tuxedos more often! Oh I could just eat you up!"

Bulma's father coughed conspicuously at his daughter's mortified face and Vegeta's horrified grimace. "Leave them alone, Bun-bun. It's almost time to go in…"

Sure enough they could hear a voice behind the door announce their entrance and the orchestra strike up before the doors were pulled open with a grinding noise and twinkling light flooded the passageway. Clenching her poofy, blue organza gown, Bunny grasped her husband's arm and blithely swept away into the center of the room, leaving her daughter and her date stunned in her wake. "Here we go," Bulma breathed, clutching Vegeta's muscular arm as he held it out to her cordially. "I hope you got everything Mom taught you today…"

"The lessons were undeniably engraved in my mind," he muttered back, frowning at the memory of Bunny fawning over him to teach him how to dance. Then, his back straightening to his military protocol, Vegeta led Bulma into the room with the elegance of a thousand years of royal blood. Faces turned and whispers erupted as the pair strode into the room, heads held high and eyes shining with the intensity of pounding pulses. No other pair looked as ethereal, like light and dark amalgamated at the end of time. No other man held such a mysterious countenance or emanated such darkness and aloofness. No other woman glowed with such inner luminosity or had the hair of the ocean or the eyes of the sky. The two were literally royalty and beauty.

Yamcha watched, his mouth agape, as the pair strode confidently in to the sweeping music and stood beside the older couple. Had he ever looked like that with Bulma at his side? Had she ever looked so enrapturing? How could he ever have mistaken Vegeta as anything _but_ royalty? Yamcha's fists clenched as fire flew through his eyes and ice dripped down his back. Was this what she wanted? A ferocious killer – her _boyfriend's_ murderer – at her side, dangerous and impenetrable?

Bulma looked up fondly at Vegeta as the crowd applauded and the music changed to signify their first dance, and he in turn glanced down at her with a smirk. "If only you could feel the change in the Weakling's energy level now," he scoffed as he gracefully swept her up against him, adeptly grasping her waist and hand and looking deeply into her eyes, "He's angry enough to try to kill me."

With a gasp at his sudden touch, Bulma clung to Vegeta breathlessly as they began to move to the music. What had he said?...

Vegeta declined his head until his lips touched her ear while he spun her artfully across the floor. "I'd welcome the battle," he murmured deeply, his eyes searching out his enemy's. "I haven't had this much _fun_ in a very long time, Bulma."

Hearing the wickedness in his voice, but unable to ignore the shivers of delight racking her body, Bulma replied weakly, "Don't tease him, Geta… He's hurting because of me, and I – I…"

Vegeta's fingers whispered across her lower back, sending spirals of heat coursing through her abdomen. "You what, Woman? Do you _love him?_" he sneered, delighting in the feel of her fragile body against him and despising the thought of her wrapped up in that other man's arms. "Do you like having men wrapped around your spoiled little finger? Puppies lapping at the scraps you throw them?"

"That's not – no!" Bulma squeaked as he pulled her tighter against him amidst a twirl. "He's my friend – my companion for the last ten years!"

"Then tell me, _girl,_ what is he now?" he growled.

"I – I don't honestly know!" she gasped as he suddenly dipped her, lingering a moment to stare into her eyes with burning fire before he swooped her up again.

"Do you _want_ him?" he jeered as he clasped her form to his again. "Does he make you _weak at the knees_?"

It was at that moment that Bulma realized that no man had ever made her feel weak at the knees and breathless – except Vegeta. Too stunned to even reply, Bulma stared across the top of his sculpted shoulder and into the crowd as her parents danced by with a laugh. Did she… did she have feelings for Vegeta? What about Yamcha? She knew already that she didn't exactly _love_ him, but that could be fixed with a little time and attention, right?

Slightly taken aback at his partner's silence, Vegeta looked down at her and saw her ashen face staring over his shoulder. Something akin to guilt slithered into his stomach as he looked at her disoriented and worried features and he realized that he hadn't been able to control his temper. As the song slowed to signal its closure and the crowd began to engulf them, Vegeta pulled her away from him to peer at her in consternation. "Bulma, I – "

"Don't," she squeaked in mortification as she moved away from him. He was too beautiful to even look at, and she didn't trust herself after her little revelation. "I need a moment – just a moment," she said, more to herself than to him as she backed away and cast her gaze anywhere but his onyx eyes. Vegeta clenched his fists in irritation as his prey retreated from him with a wounded mien, and he followed her through the crowd that seemed to naturally part for her in deference to her status and beauty.

As Bulma disappeared through the massive glass French doors, she clutched her chest as her heart seemed to suck in and pull the rest of her with it. He was so hurtful, but she just couldn't help herself – what a stupid, masochistic –

"Bulma," Vegeta growled in exasperation as he came up behind her on the empty patio, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Well what the hell is wrong with you that you can't understand the meaning of 'need a moment,' Vegeta?" she hissed defensively, refusing to face him.

"Why the fuck do you need a moment?" he snarled at her unexpected attack on what he thought was as close to caring as it got for him.

"I'm just a little – I don't feel well," she finished lamely, touching a hand to her forehead.

"Bullshit."

With a surge of volatile anger, Bulma rounded on him with fire sparking in her stormy eyes. "_This is all YOUR fault, Vegeta_," she snapped, clutching the stone banister behind her and thrusting her shoulders towards the dark man before her. "YOU'RE the one bringing all this up when I don't need to hear about it! YOU'RE the one who's so damn confusing and cryptic all the time! You're almost sweet one moment and the next you're trying to blow someone's HEAD off!"

Vegeta took an unconscious step back at her completely unexpected anger. For the first time in a long time, he was too baffled to speak.

"If you like me then just TELL ME because I like you just fine too!" she said in vexation, crossing her arms like he usually did and pouting as she turned away. "I know you won't ever say it, Vegeta, so what's the point?"

Vegeta observed her carefully through narrowed eyes as he felt waves of anger and what felt like some sort of fear roll off her shoulders. _Stupid Saiyan senses_, he thought bitterly, not really wanting to be privy this volatile woman's feelings. Nonetheless, his new sense of guilt propelled him to speak. "I admit that I am often – overcome – by bloodlust," he growled begrudgingly as he stepped closer behind her. Bulma sucked in with a hiss at his sudden proximity, and Vegeta thought it was from fear once more. "It was unnecessary to taunt you with the Weakling's impeding death." Rolling her eyes at Vegeta's attempt at sincerity, Bulma refused to face him. With unwavering determination, he stepped closer until his breath fell on the back of her neck, murmuring, "Killing is my nature, Bulma. I'm not human and I never will be – I am a Saiyan."

"I never asked you to be anything other than yourself," she whispered, clutching her arms as the night air – or something else entirely – sent shivers down her spine. "But you're a Saiyan, not a beast, Vegeta. You have every ability to control yourself, _Prince_," she said evenly, finally turning to gaze into his unfathomable eyes. "If you're jealous, then just tell me."

Rearing his head back in indignation, Vegeta growled at her ridiculous insinuations. "Jealous of that _fool_, Bulma? He has nothing," he seethed, the tips of his canines flashing dangerously.

"He has ME," she said stubbornly. "I'll always be there for him, and that's what bothers you."

"You can do whatever the hell you so choose – it has no bearing on me," he snarled, eyes aflame.

"I'm there for you too, you know," she plowed on, unconsciously lowering her arms to her sides in a fighting stance. "I have enough room in my heart to love everyone in my life, unlike _some_ people!"

"Oh that's right – you humans have such meaningless conventions!" he yelled as the veins in his neck and forehead pulsed with uncontrollable anger. "You can waste your so-called _love_ on that weakling – I have no need for it!" His nostrils flared as he began to see red just imagining the woman fawning all over the fool again.

"Oh PLEASE, Vegeta! Everyone needs a little love!" she snapped, inclining her head towards his as she looked deeper into his eyes. "You're no exception just because you think you're all big and tough!"

Vegeta warred with himself as he saw the fire in her eyes and the beauty of her face. Her temperamental state was intoxicating, and the scent wafting from her body smelled very much like lust. Everything in him willed him to either snap her little neck in half for insinuating such weakness or to rip off her gown and claim her as his queen. In the end his body compromised as he lifted a hand to her throat right below her jaw, his other hand snaking around her waist to crush her hips to his. With a feather-light touch he rested his grip about her neck and traced her jaw with his thumb. "I should kill you for your insolence," he murmured gruffly, eyes traveling from her eyes to her delicate neck and up to her lips. Again he smelled her unique scent of fear as her eyes widened.

Bulma, on the other hand, was not afraid, but rather surprised at his empty threat and gentle touch. Every place he touched her burned, and she felt a wind of desire scorch through her hips and up her stomach. She could see his gaze rest on her expertly painted lips, and for the first time she recognized that she wanted him so badly she thought she would faint. Suddenly she exhaled, not realizing she had held her breath so long.

Her breath fanned across his face, slipping between his lips and enflaming his need for her. _Take her,_ his mind roared. Acquiescing, Vegeta bared his teeth with a feral growl and tightened his grip slightly to hold her steady as he began to lean his face towards hers.

Suddenly Vegeta was knocked to the side, sending Bulma tumbling until he caught her before they both fell. "What the – "

"_I'll kill you_," Yamcha seethed, his chest heaving as he sent another punch at Vegeta, who dodged it easily though quite perturbed.

"Or you'll kill the woman," Vegeta replied angrily as Yamcha's fist came dangerously close to Bulma's wide eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bulma pulled away in terror, retreating to the banister again as Yamcha snarled, "You were trying to choke her!"

For the first time in a long time, Vegeta was speechless and blinked dumbly at Bulma as color tinged his cheeks. The scientist, ever quick on her feet, nodded nearly imperceptibly at him, her eyes sparkling earnestly. Taking the hint, Vegeta rounded on Yamcha. "So what if I was going to scare her a little?" he hissed maliciously, eyes narrowing, "The Woman has gotten too insubordinate."

Bulma relaxed a little. She was no idiot – whatever Vegeta was going to do, it didn't involve killing her, and she cursed Yamcha for ruining the moment before mentally slapping herself. _What the hell is wrong with me? Yamcha actually _cares_ about my well-being whereas Vegeta made it quite clear that he has no feelings for me, despite whatever was just going on…_

"INSUBORDINATE? She's not your _slave,_ Vegeta!" Yamcha said lividly. Immediately he rounded on Bulma. "How can you take this, B? Do you see how he treats you? If I hadn't been here – who knows what he'd have done to you!"

Bulma lifted her hands in front of her in a form of supplication. "Vegeta may be a jerk, Yamcha, but he won't hurt me." Her eyes flashed over to the seething Saiyan. "That I'm sure of."

Suddenly, Yamcha's face went blank and pallid. "Are you two…" he began dubiously, straightening and looking between the pair, "Are you _fucking_ him, Bulma?" he hissed.

"What? _How dare you talk to me that way?_" she snarled back, her face blushing furiously and fists clenching, "No I'm not _fucking him_, as you so pleasantly put it. I would have the courtesy to tell you if I were; moreover, I don't think you ever told me when you were fucking WHORES, Yamcha!"

"Oh-ho, so you'll put out for the nefarious Saiyan Prince, but not for your boyfriend of ten years?" he yelled back.

"Would you shut up? I told you we're not doing anything, Yamcha! Everyone's going to hear you!"

Yamcha seemed to snap out of it a bit as he looked around at the faces behind the glass turned towards them curiously. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Bulma moved to him and touched his arm. "I still don't know where I stand on anything anymore, Yamcha, but I respect you. I would never hurt you that way." She could see Vegeta out of the corner of her eye as he folded his arms menacingly. "And you need to leave Vegeta alone. I don't want you two at each others' throats anymore, okay?"

"I don't want him at _your_ throat, Bulma," he muttered darkly.

That was enough for Vegeta to move over in a flash and shove Yamcha across the patio where the scarred man slammed against the far banister. "SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, BOY!" he roared, landing in front of Bulma in a fighting stance. Horrified, Bulma reached out to grab his arm and opened her mouth to entreat him –

"Hey guys! What's up?" came a familiar voice behind the two. Bulma and Vegeta spun around.

"_Kakarott?_"

**A/N: That's all for now. I wanted to get this part out before I continued on. Please REVIEW!**


	7. Moonlight Sonata

**A/N: Things are beginning to heat up here…**

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 7: Moonlight Sonata

"Hey guys, what's goin' on?" Goku trilled with his trademark goofy smile.

Bulma blinked dumbly as she gripped Vegeta's arm like a fainting woman. "Goku? What…"

"Yamcha!" the jolly Saiyan exclaimed as he leaned around the unwitting couple to stare at his friend on the ground, "What are you doing down there?"

As he struggled to his feet, the scarred man grimaced and scathingly replied, "Oh, you know, just defending Bulma's honor and such."

"What's wrong with your honor, Bulma?" Goku asked in concern.

"_Nothing_," she hissed in irritation, still keeping her hold on Vegeta as she turned her face to his. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Vegeta looked down at her, his eyes aflame and chest still heaving from his pumping adrenalin. "He…" he began, suddenly unable to justify his burst of anger. Why had he lost control? Yamcha's words rang through his head. "_I don't want him at _your_ throat, Bulma."_ Ah, there it was… Vegeta could see himself dipping his head to caress her pulse with his lips, nipping and kissing down her slender column – giving her the ultimate symbol of Saiyan loyalty and mating. Somehow that boy's offhanded derision had struck a chord with the Prince and had unleashed his fury and desire for the woman.

Seeing flickers of emotion and thought on his face, Bulma softened her expression and gently squeezed his unyielding biceps with her slender fingers. Vegeta suddenly looked so… defeated, and his eyes danced across her face as if memorizing her features. Then without warning he jerked his head to the offending human standing at the railing and a snarl erupted from his chest as his nose wrinkled in distaste. "He has no business speaking about the Prince of All Saiyans in such an insulting manner."

"Hey buddy, YOU have no business being around Bulma like that!" Yamcha retorted, pushing off the railing to stand beside Goku.

A devious smirk flashed across Vegeta's face as he abruptly twirled Bulma into his arms and lowered his mouth to breathe against her ear. "What? Like this?" he taunted as he flexed one hand against her jutting hip and the other at her ribs beneath her breast. Bulma's mouth popped open in a little 'o' of surprise, her eyes widening and twinkling in the light of the dance.

"Oooooh I wondered when you two would get together!" Goku blurted out gleefully as he threw an arm around Yamcha's slumping shoulders and pulled him to his chest in a bone-crunching hug.

Everyone else froze in a mixture of mortification, surprise, and anger. "She's still mine, Goku," Yamcha snapped, shoving away from his gentle friend as Bulma disentangled herself from Vegeta's now-loose arms.

"Hey – I'm _no one's_ possession, sir," Bulma interjected, jabbing a finger his way, "And if I'm not mistaken, you already broke up with me!"

"I did not!"

"Yeah you did – somewhere between attacking Vegeta and telling me you'd not be around any more!"

Meanwhile, Vegeta began to back away from the scene, his mind tumultuous and clouded with the sudden thought of the woman and him being… _together._ Catching Vegeta's movement, Goku bounded over to the other Saiyan and clasped his hand on his shoulder. "Aw, Vegeta, don't get discouraged! You just have to try a little harder and I'm sure you guys can get together!"

Vegeta blanched in utter horror and embarrassment. "I need no advice from third-class buffoons!" he snarled, shoving his offending arm away, "And I most CERTAINLY don't need advice about females from the man mated to the least-desirable harpy on the planet! I am the PRINCE OF ALL SAIYANS! I can have my pick of any female in the universe!"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well title aside you might want to brush up on your social skills if you're planning on wooing a woman anytime soon," she commented snidely.

Slowly gliding his gaze to hers, Vegeta's eyes darkened maliciously. "If you had lived anywhere else other than this mudball, Bulma," he said softly, caressing her with his smooth tone and heated stare to send shivers up her spine, "You would know that I am known throughout the universe for _talents_ other than my strength and unique charm." Suddenly, Bulma was very aware of Vegeta's proximity and his complete… maleness as his dark eyes bored into hers with the promise of something more sinful than death. Again, unbidden visions of Vegeta scraping his teeth across her soft stomach as her hands twisted in his hair flashed before her eyes and her mouth went dry.

"Well then," she replied as she attempted to steady her voice, "I guess you could have any _whore_ in the universe you wanted." Her contemptuous eyes glared back at him, and everyone else (well, maybe not Goku…) understood and heard the silent statement that came after. _Any whore, but not ME._ Her tacit challenge hung in the air, stinging both Yamcha and Vegeta.

Bulma was up for grabs.

"So that's it then," Yamcha said softly, his shoulders slumping, "You've made your choice."

"I've done no such thing," Bulma snapped as she turned away from the three. "You've just been too weak to take what you wanted." There was ambiguity to whom she was referring, and Vegeta and Yamcha each took her words to heart as a statement of challenge and encouragement, respectively. "Goku?"

The happy Saiyan perked up at finally being included in whatever was going on around him.

"We're going to dance now."

Blithely, Goku answered, "Alright!" and moved to her side to escort her back into the fray. Without another word, Bulma left her two men behind.

***

Cramming tiny quiches, shrimps in cocktail sauce, and cheesecake in his mouth, Goku happily amused himself while Bulma stood to the side in distaste, examining her manicure. As much as she loved her oldest friend, she sometimes forgot what a pain it was to deal with his insatiable hunger and complete obliviousness. _I think I even miss Vegeta_, she thought shrewdly as she glanced through the twirling crowd. She had seen neither hide nor hair of either Yamcha or Vegeta, and she wondered vaguely if they had killed each other._ Well, that would take care of my problem, I suppose…_

"Too bad Chi didn't want to come," Goku commented through a full mouth as he joined her, "She would have LOVED the food!"

"More likely she would have criticized it," Bulma replied indifferently, eyeing his finally-empty hands.

"And for good reason, too," Vegeta remarked behind them, causing Bulma to jump as her heart ballooned happily, "This is the most droll party I have ever attended, and I grew up with Frieza." Bulma's smile faltered at his statement and his dark countenance.

"Aw no way, Vegeta!" Goku exclaimed, "This party's great! Bulma's a wonderful dancer, and this food is amazing!" Now she could remember why she loved Goku…

Vegeta frowned and crossed his arms. He didn't like the idea of that third-class man holding the blue-haired woman. "You have always been a complete moron," he grumbled crossly.

"Goku's a great dancer too," she added haughtily, "In fact, I think it's time for another spin. What do you think?" Turning away from Vegeta, she threw her shoulders back confidently and her ample chest heaved against the dusky pink tulle of her dress.

Eyeing Vegeta curiously, Goku replied sheepishly, "Sure, Bulma, but wouldn't you like to dance with Vegeta now?"

With a blush Bulma glanced sideways over her shoulder, saying, "He hasn't asked me, Goku."

Vegeta growled in warning as strange emotions swirled inside of him – jealousy seethed, and the urge to conquer and hold rose in his chest. Though she could only peer at him out of the corner of her eye, Bulma could see this internal warring play across his face as he wrestled with his pride and his desire. _Now or never, Vegeta_… After a moment of silence, Bulma dejectedly turned back to Goku. "Alright then –"

"Don't," Vegeta suddenly said, unwittingly stretching his arm towards her. Bulma twirled around to stare into his eyes intently, scarcely breathing in her expectation. He looked down to his hand and withdrew it slowly. "You will dance with me," he said gruffly, his gaze flickering to Goku.

"Great!" Goku said with a goofy smile, "I really wanted to get back to the food table, anyway."

Ignoring her friend and narrowing her eyes, Bulma observed Vegeta carefully as she raised a hand to her nape to toy with a loose curl. While she really wanted to deny his demand out of spite, his bare admittance of his desire for her fanned a flame in her chest that burned only for him. Instead of answering, she merely nodded and extended her slender hand to rest in the air before him. Gravely, Vegeta reached out to grasp hers, sending a jolt of energy through her fingertips, and led her to the dance floor as a slow, beautiful piece struck up.

Without speaking the two came together gently, his hand sliding to her waist and her hand clasping his shoulder as they entwined their other hands in the air, and their eyes met heatedly when they began to gracefully sweep across the floor. He held her away from him like the princes in movies she had seen as a little girl, and despite the distance she suddenly felt cherished and breakable all at the same time, like a delicate china doll. Blushing at his intense gaze, Bulma looked away to the crowd and spotted Yamcha in the corner. He appeared neither upset nor agitated, but simply cool and calculated – a rarely-seen stance from him – and Bulma abruptly felt disconcerted.

Vegeta knew the moment she saw the Weakling: her hand tightened in his while the other slid further across his shoulder like she needed protection. Barely containing his possessive growl, Vegeta pulled her against himself as the music slowed even further to a swelling, heart-breaking tune. Bulma could barely breathe from her sudden elation. _Finally, he's letting me near him…_ With a small, contented sigh, she let him twirl her and then came to rest against his chest again, nuzzling his neck affectionately, her nose brushing against the line of his jaw. "Vegeta…" she whispered, barely conscious of her speech as she inhaled his unique, spicy scent mixed with the light sheen of sweat on his neck.

An unfamiliar feeling of warmth burst in his chest, and Vegeta responded ardently by crushing her waist to his and turning his face into her hair with closed eyes, breathing in her perfume and sweet scent while feeling the softness of her blue tresses with his nose and cheek. His name on her lips brought about a new feeling of possession in him – one that needed to hold, keep, and cherish her – but also a burst of lust in his loins that seared through his abdomen, crawling up the back of his neck to the roots of his hair and flooding his cheeks. He wanted to hear her say his name again in the throes of passion – he wanted her to moan his name from the depths of her soul.

Hearing his breath hitch, Bulma pulled back and peered up into his ebony eyes again, amazed at the fire burning in their depths. For a moment their breaths mingled in the air, and Bulma marveled at the closeness she had finally achieved with the Prince, but was suddenly stunned at her reaction to it. His eyes bored into hers and blazed a path through her legs and pelvis, igniting a feeling she had long thought locked away. Not since she had first met Yamcha had Bulma felt so feverish and lustful – and even then she had never felt this crippling need for a man like she did for Vegeta. She feared she couldn't last much longer.

"I'm ready to go now, Vegeta," she breathed, eyes landing on his smooth lips.

With a smirk beginning to crawl its way to the corners of his mouth, he twirled her one last time before escorting her from the ballroom. From the corner of his eye he could see Yamcha lurking in the shadows, slowly following their progress. _Let him come then,_ he thought wickedly as they moved silently through the hallways, _It's high time he learned some respect for me – and to whom the woman truly belongs._

Bulma glanced up at him as they entered the glass-covered atrium at the back of the building off-limits to the guests. No lights lit the room, but the moonlight streamed from overhead and through the far glass wall that faced the vast meadow beyond, and Bulma's pale skin glowed ethereally while Vegeta's bronze tones deepened and flashed in the starlight. He sniffed regally at the assortment of huge plants placed strategically throughout the space and wondered idly why humans went through such lengths to make their homes look like the natural world.

With a contented and excited smile, she pulled him by the hand to a large chez lounge that sat away from the barrier of exotic plants against the glass wall. This was her chance. Vegeta stood royally at the edge of the lounge, seeming to gauge his surroundings and her demeanor, while she slid onto the lounge against the raised shoulder, propping herself up to stare at him with the challenge to join her. Eyes darkening with expectancy, Vegeta leaned over and swept her legs up onto the lounge so he could straddle her like the predator he was. He clutched the couch behind her head in one hand and kept a hold of her tulle-covered thigh in the other, and an indecipherable rumble tore through his chest as he bent towards her surprised face. She had obviously not been expecting his demanding advances, and her breath hiccupped in her chest as her eyes widened with her heightened senses.

"Hungry, girl?" he taunted wickedly, his canines glinting in the moonlight as his insinuations thickened the air around them.

"Not after hanging out with Goku," she replied shakily as she felt his hand tighten on her thigh to send shockwaves through her belly. "Vegeta…" she whispered, defensively raising a hand to his chest at his disconcerting closeness.

Ignoring her faint plea and lowering his nose to her neck, Vegeta inhaled her scent once more and felt her shiver under his scrutiny. "You are intoxicating – for a weak human," he murmured, looking over her once more to stare into her sapphire orbs. She wanted desperately to have the will to push him away and regain her senses, but instead her hand clenched onto his tuxedo jacket, and her movement brought an evil smirk to his face. Leaning in closer to her face, his eyes planted on her lips, he mumbled, "I can hear your heart, if I choose to. Whenever you near me…" he paused as he glanced back to her eyes, "It races like mad, and every little beat draws me to you." Slowly, achingly slowly, his lips began to descend to hers. "The little enchantress _must_ be hungry – what else could she possibly desire?" he hissed to himself as he focused once more on her cherry petals.

Bulma began to pant with nervousness and anticipation as she watched his lips hover above hers tauntingly – she could take no more as his hand slid up to grasp her slender hip and pin her down. "Please," she gasped, her tongue darting out to the edge of her lower lip. "Vegeta – "

With a growl his lips crashed down upon hers in a fury, and his other hand left the couch to grasp her back and crush her tiny body to his. Fire raced from their lips down their spines, and Bulma slammed her hand through his hair to entangle her fingers in his ebony tresses. His mouth covered hers possessively, and she arched her back into the kiss to meld with him. _MORE_, her mind screamed as their teeth clashed and her nose bumped against his as they writhed back and forth. Her heart bloomed forth painfully and she feared that she just might explode with butterflies and flames.

Vegeta had never felt such a thrill of desire before – such satisfaction in the hunt – and a sudden keening noise that erupted in the back of her throat obliterated all his sense of mind. He greedily thrust his tongue into her mouth and visciously lapped at her warm cavern. Bulma fought back with a vengeance and her tongue clashed with his in a brutal dance. With every intention to claim her, Vegeta laid Bulma against the slanted side and covered her body with his, grinding his jutting erection against her core.

Bulma's eyes popped open.

"No!" she said into his mouth, yanking her face away from his with her chest heaving and breaths slipping from her lips. White-hot rejection slashed through his chest and Vegeta snarled dangerously, already slipping away into his animalistic side as his mouth descended fiercely on hers once more. "NO!" she cried out again as she shoved weakly against his chest and flailed beneath him defensively. "Vegeta –" she gasped as his hand slipped from her waist to her hair to yank her head back and expose her pearly neck, "Stop!" The blinding fire began to seep from before his eyes at her entreating words, and he stilled himself as he glared down at her throbbing pulse. "I'm a _virgin_," she panted, trying to look over her nose at his darkening countenance.

Vegeta blinked in surprise, shaking his head to clear it. He had heard her say it before, but he just never believed it… her voluptuous curves and tantalizing apparel screamed sex from the rooftops. "_You lie_," he hissed, bringing his teeth to nip at her chin none-too-gently. She was rejecting him – him, the Prince of All Saiyans!

"No Vegeta, I'm not lying! Would you let go of my hair?" she moaned, feeling the pins of her updo digging into her scalp. Hesitating for a moment, Vegeta relinquished his hold on her shining tresses and sat up with a disgusted scowl, moving to stand to the side of the lounge. As she patted her hair with a wince, Bulma could feel his anger and embarrassment emanating from his back, and she felt guilt settle into her stomach. "Vegeta," she said softly, standing and adjusting her dress with a sigh, "I _am_ a virgin. I don't know what everyone else in the galaxy does, but people like me… We don't just go around having sex with whomever we want – especially after having just gotten out of a ten-year relationship." She paused, watching his back as it stiffened in rejection, and she was suddenly drawn to him. "It doesn't matter… _how_ sexy or desirable he is," she said huskily, reaching out to trail a hand down his back, "You've got to hold back. The waiting makes everything…" she brushed her lips across the back of his neck, "…worth it."

The hairs of his neck standing on end as her lips passed over, Vegeta felt that strange melting feeling slide down his spine once more to meld with the burning pit of his loins. Her words inspired the most sinful visions in his head, and everything in him willed himself to corrupt her – body and soul – but he refused to move and meet her eyes.

"Vegeta," she wheedled softly, letting her lips rest against the side of his neck as she wrapped her arms about his steely chest, "I really, really want this. Please don't go away…"

He could feel his resolve fading as her little arms embraced him and her pleas wrapped around his once-impenetrable heart. "I'm not going anywhere," he growled stubbornly, pushing her arms away from him so that he could turn around to glare at her properly. "You have everything I need to train to the best of my abilities."

Eyes widening in shock, Bulma recoiled like he had hit her and stepped away. She felt like her heart was rending in two as his penetrating eyes coldly stared her down without remorse – mocking her precious feelings and humanity – and it was her turn to feel the slashing pain of rejection. "Is that all you want, Vegeta?" she whispered as tears gathered and threatened to drip down her lashes, "The assurance that everything you need is yours?" Unbidden, a tear splashed down her cheek, and Vegeta had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing her to crush her to him. Her voice wavered as she spoke: "I would never keep your destiny from you, no matter if I liked you or not. I would have given you the moon if you'd wanted it, Vegeta." Her lip trembled and more tears coursed down her face. "I _hate_ to be weak in front of you because I know you despise it… but you make me weak," she added in a barely-audible voice. Vegeta's cheek twitched as he struggled to control his urge to comfort the pitiful creature before him, and Bulma turned away. "I would have given you more than a stupid gravity room, Geta. I would have given you the world – not because you need it, but because you deserve it," she murmured as she walked away to the door and paused. "I'm no fool, Vegeta. I don't expect a declaration of ardent love from you, but I _do_ deserve a little respect," she hissed before she gently drew the door open and left him brooding there in the slanting moonlight.

Vegeta felt a dead weight settle in his chest, constricting his breathing and some other organ that he had long thought dead. He was amazed to find that he truly despised what he had become.

**  
A/N: Sorry that took so long! I've been pretty ill for a week… Hopefully I'll update sooner this time. Please review!**


	8. 36 Degrees to Love

**A/N: Sorry this took so long!**

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

**Chapter 8: Thirty-Six Degrees to Love**

Bulma strode down the hall, her dress billowing behind her like a cape of tangible ire. As soon as she had left behind the room with Vegeta, her tears had dried up immediately and were replaced by an unshakeable, deep-seated anger that twisted like snakes in her stomach. _How dare he…_ she seethed as she tore through the long hallway that led to her room. Slamming her door behind her, she finally yelled, "How _dare_ he!" as she kicked off her shoes with vehemence and roughly shimmied her tulle dress down her slender body. At first she had been heart-broken, and that in itself had surprised her. When had she fallen for Vegeta? She knew that she found him attractive, but his outright spurn of her affection had torn her in two. _How could I be so weak?_ she thought desperately as she threw her down comforter open and slipped into bed in nothing but her underwear. Bulma looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. She wanted to strangle him. She wanted to bash his stupid little smirking face in.

God, she wanted to fuck him.

"Argh!" she screamed, pulling a pillow over her face in embarrassment. "How can I even _think_ that? SICK! Stupid, stupid Bulma!" she moaned. _I never even gave in to Yamcha, and I loved him!_ Suddenly Bulma's thoughts stopped as an uncomfortable buzzing filled her mind. Did she actually ever love Yamcha? She thought so… but perhaps it had been a fleeting, fanciful love, dependent upon her disinterest in anything but him and her lab. So what did that mean? What was this she felt for Vegeta? Certainly not close to love… right?

By the next morning, Bulma had come no nearer to an answer than the night before. Having been plagued by visions of passionate lovemaking and equally vicious fights, she had no idea where Vegeta stood in her life, but she had decided at least one thing: He would pay for his insolence.

As she stepped out of the shower, steam billowing behind her like the tendrils of a spell, Bulma smiled wickedly to herself. Chaste she may be, but ignorant she surely wasn't. Vegeta had made it quite clear what he wanted from her, and she was going to ensure that he knew what he was missing every single second of every day. She was going to be the embodiment of sex, the paradigm of femininity, the image of a goddess, and he was going to beg for her in the end. Bulma's teeth flashed as her plan fleshed itself out. The Saiyan Prince would never know what hit him.

She meticulously tore through her closet and sighed happily when she finally found what she was looking for: her tiny, pink set of underwear, complete with little white stripes and frilly lace edges. Then she chose a white, billowing shirt – simple with pearly buttons winding up the front to the v-neck – and a loose, light-blue pair of cotton shorts. After throwing this all on, she mussed her long hair into a damp array of loose curls, applied a bit of waterproof makeup, and put on a long golden chain necklace with a tiny charm dangling from the end. With one last glance in the mirror, Bulma flounced down the stairs and into the kitchen where she found her mother puttering about, rearranging last night's massive bouquets into smaller vases and singing incomprehensible melodies. "Morning, Mom," she said lightly as she snatched an apple out of the fruit bowl.

"Oh good morning, sweetie!" Bunny replied blissfully, turning to the stovetop to retrieve a steaming stack of pancakes for her daughter, "I missed you at the end of the party last night. Where did you run off to? Mr. Shietzer wanted to steal you away for a dance, but – poor thing! – you had already gone! Were you sneaking about with Mr. Vegeta?" she asked mischeviously with a wag of her spatula.

Bulma's eyes flashed dangerously before she recovered her defiant attitude. "Yes, I did in fact sneak off with Vegeta," she said, setting down her apple to tear apart a pancake, "And I quickly learned that he has absolutely no interest in me." _A lie,_ she thought as she chewed on the morsels, _But a very necessary one._

Fanning her cheeks with her hands, Bunny rushed to Bulma's side, squeaking, "Oh no, dear, you've got it all wrong! _Anyone_ could see that Mr. Vegeta likes you! I mean, I know he's sweet to _me_ and all –" (Bulma gagged) " – but other than that he only talks to you. He just ADORES you, Bulma, I know it! Give it a little time – and for heaven's sake, unbutton that shirt a little more!"

"_Mom!"_ Bulma groaned, snatching her apparel away from her offending mother's hands.

"Oh darling, I know how it is! I know you and Yamcha – ahem – never _consummated_ your love, but that's because you knew he wasn't the one for you."

With a hand over her eyes, Bulma shakily replied, "Mom, you cannot seriously be suggesting that Vegeta is the one for me – that you want your perfect, chaste little daughter to have sex with one of the most feared and blood-thirsty aliens in the universe?"

"He just needs a little love, B., and he'll be a wonderful husband. A woman can do wonders for a man, you know. Plus, how do you think I got your father?" Bunny quipped happily.

"We are NOT talking about this!" Bulma exclaimed, shoving away from the counter with her apple in hand as she headed to the door outside.

"Loosed up a little, dear!" Bunny called after her, "Otherwise I don't think I'll _ever_ get grandchildren!"

Bulma slammed the door behind her. _How the hell does that even happen in the real world?_ Tossing the apple in the air and deftly catching it in her manicured hand, she wandered past the gravity room with a cheeky smirk as she mentally calculated the time during which the Prince would train that morning. As it was only nine-thirty in the morning, she figured he would beat himself mercilessly for the next three hours. Bulma entered the lab – an annex of sorts to the main building – and wandered to her office where she withdrew a large file brimming with drawings of the gravity room. For the next hour she spent her time pouring over the emergency plans and water system of the GR. After checking the status of the electrical system and swiftly typing in various codes into the now-haywire main grid, Bulma applied a bit of lip gloss and sashayed out to the GR, toolbox in hand.

"Oh VEG-HEAD!" she called irritatingly as she rapped on the GR door, "Yoo-hoo! Open up, you royal jerk!" After she heard the main power shut off, Bulma smiled mockingly as the door slowly ground open to reveal the extremely surly (and shall we say, resentful?) Saiyan with his arms characteristically crossed in front. "About time. Move," she said curtly as she immediately shoved past his immobile figure.

Grinding his teeth in checked fury, Vegeta let the door close and slowly rotated to watch the ravishing scientist plop her tools in front of the main control panel. "I don't remember calling for your services, girl," he said menacingly, his nostrils flaring at her powerful scent as it filled the room and brought a surge of memories from the night before. _How dare she flounce in here like she doesn't remember?_ he seethed as his eyes narrowed critically.

Ripping the main grid open with uncharacteristic carelessness, Bulma flicked her hair over her shoulder and replied, "You didn't. The goddamned emergency system has been beeping for nearly a day now – something to do with a short-circuit in the electrical grid – but don't let me bother _you_." Bulma tossed him a quick glare. "I know how much my presence must irk you, but I wanted to make sure that you had _everything you need_," she sneered, emphasizing his words from the night before as she tore through the machinery and began to fiddle with the wires and gears.

Vegeta's cheeks tinged red, and he opened his mouth to reply but was cut short by a blaring siren that erupted from the GR. Suddenly the lights blinked red as a warning sounded from the main grid, and Bulma looked up in feigned surprise as the door locked down. "What the hell –" Vegeta exclaimed before a resounding thud rang through the machinery.

"Looks like the emergency system is going haywire," Bulma mused with interest as she stood and stared at the ceiling. "It's locking the doors like it's preparing for a blast, but that sounded like the –" Without warning little holes in the ceiling panels popped open and abruptly began spraying ice-cold water down on the two occupants. "SHIT!" Bulma yelled, covering her head desperately. _That was a hell of a lot colder than I planned!_

"SHUT IT OFF!" Vegeta roared, covering his eyes as he glared at the frantic woman before him. Even his Saiyan defenses were feeling the cold of the water, and he wondered briefly if the small woman would be able to stay out of shock.

Running over to the main grid, Bulma jammed down the buttons and typed in an override code. Another loud thud resounded, and the water streamed in two-fold, buckling Bulma's knees as she stood against the force. With a screech of irritation she dove towards the main panel, ripped it open, and manually overrode the system. Gradually the water slowed and came to a drip, while the rest of it pooled at their feet until the drains opened and it began to flow out. Bulma stood at the panel breathing heavily as shivers began to rack over her tiny form in great waves. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this cold, and she cursed herself for having ordered all emergency systems to use 36 degree water; although she had proven that colder water worked better against ki-related fires, she might have considered that the occupants could die of shock anyway.

"Bulma," Vegeta growled dangerously, pulling her out of her reverie, "What the hell did you just do?" He would be damned if he let that fool pull some sort of prank on him.

Bulma turned with wide eyes to her predator, and he suddenly noticed that her hair and eyes were not the only blue attributes anymore. Her lips, ears, fingers and toes looked dangerously pale. "I need to get this fixed now," she said mechanically. She was so cold she could barely stand up straight, but she remembered her purpose and did her best to look enticing even in her state. "Don't open the doors – it'll set the system off again, not to mention it might fire an electrical pulse through the water." Without taking her eyes from his, Bulma brought her trembling fingers to the top buttons on her blouse and slowly began to unbutton them.

Vegeta's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "What – what are you doing?" he stammered, taking a step back. Already he could feel his groin tighten in anticipation, and he hated himself for being so immediately drawn to her beauty.

"I'm freezing," she replied curtly as she looked down to her achingly slow fingers. "I don't know how long I'd last in this shirt before I couldn't move." She glanced up at him and smugly observed his rattled disposition. "Gees Vegeta, don't get your panties in a bunch. I have underwear on you know – you've seen me in bikinis plenty of times."

Watching her distrustfully, Vegeta commented to himself that though underwear and bikinis looked basically the same, their connotations gave them very different meanings. One was simply revealing clothing, and the other was the last step to bare skin and heated kisses. Bulma was thinking along the same lines as she wickedly opened up her blouse to reveal her pink-and-white striped demi bra with the frilly lace trailing along the edges, and she had to hide her smile when she saw the color surge into Vegeta's flustered face as his fists clenched in restraint. With naughty thoughts soaring through her mind, Bulma pulled the blouse wide and dropped it down her arms onto the floor. _Deny you want me now,_ she thought vindictively as she saw the barest twitch of his shorts.

_Little minx,_ Vegeta thought savagely as he surveyed her curvaceous torso, from her swelling breasts that heaved above the scrap of material to her soft stomach where he could see the faintest line of abs until her hips jutted out and met the frilly lace of her panties. Belatedly he realized that her shorts, weighted down by water, hung low on her hips to reveal the underwear beneath. In fact, the shorts were light enough that he could practically see right through them.

Satisfied that he had gotten his fill, Bulma sashayed over to the control panel as she tried her best to suppress the shivers that exploded in her chest. It was no little feat to keep her composure. She could feel his eyes boring holes into her back, and she knew he must be contemplating why she was so uninhibited around him. "Ah," she muttered as she tinkered with the panel while doing her best to suck in, straighten up, and push out.

Flashing his ki around himself to dry himself and repel the cold that had suddenly overtaken the room, Vegeta glared menacingly at the near-naked woman. Her hair dripped and splayed across her back and shoulders, and that stupid little charm necklace dangled wetly between her breasts. He couldn't tell if she was attempting to seduce him or if he had hurt her to the point that she no longer regarded him as a viable suitor. A sneer began to crawl across his mouth. According to her current reaction, he would say the latter, but there was always that chance…

Bulma felt him cross the room before he appeared behind her. Shivering violently, her body reacted to his pulsating warmth as he slid up behind her, and she tried her best to stifle a sigh of contentment. "Do you need something?" she asked petulantly, although she couldn't quite keep out the husky undertone.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he purred as he spread his arms and planted them on either side of her, leaning in to press against her back. "Taking your clothes off for a murderer…" he said against her ear, his breath fanning against her cheek, "That's not what the good girls do."

"Yeah, and you would know all about the good girls, eh Vegeta?" she retorted snidely while she ignored his presence and reached for a different tool. With a snarl of warning, Vegeta slammed her hand down against the console as gently as he could, causing Bulma to yelp in surprise and discomfort. "You may think me ignorant of your intentions, Bulma, but don't make the mistake of underestimating me."

Bulma gulped as her mind jumped to the conclusion that he could see through her charade. "YOU'RE the one who is making this awkward," she snapped, struggling against his iron grip, "You've made it quite clear that you have no interest in me as a woman and I am perfectly content with that – so if you would just continue to ignore me and give me my _space_ then I will enthusiastically do the same for you."

Sneering at her resistance, Vegeta leaned further against her until she shoved up to the bitter cold of the console, drawing a quick gasp from her lips. He could no longer ignore his delight at his bare skin touching hers, and his blazing heat seared her icy skin as he brushed his chin against her shoulder. "I said no such thing. In fact, you were the one who made up that little conjecture. I thought I made my intentions quite clear last night," he rasped as one of his hands left the console to slide insinuatingly onto her soft stomach.

Bulma hissed as his hand caused her to explode in butterflies, and her pulse raced like fire through her veins. "Yes, I know exactly what you want," she said through clenched teeth, "And you're not going to get it."

Ignoring her bristled reply, Vegeta leaned in and ran his nose along the column of her neck to breath in her sweet scent, and Bulma fought against the sigh in her throat. "And just what is it that you think I want?" he murmured nonchalantly as his mind raced to think about her moaning and bucking underneath him violently. After last night's dangerous game, he had decided that it was high time to claim her as his own – purely for carnal delights, of course. He would ensure that he gave off no indication that he had any _affection_ for her.

"Hands off, Vegeta," she said coldy, summoning all her strength to push away this man who ignited her very fingertips with the fires of lust. "I already told you I'm not giving up my virginity just because you can't manage to get another woman to be around you for more than two minutes."

A flash of rage tore through his mind, and he sought to control it. "Two minutes is all I need," he grounded out slowly, his hand roughly grabbing the side of her stomach in possession. Swiftly he released her other hand and spun her around in his arms. "Give me two minutes and I can have a woman writhing beneath me and begging me to let her come," he hissed with a feral sneer as he leaned towards her surprised face.

Blinking in astonishment as she stared into his flashing eyes, Bulma felt him grasp her upper arm with one hand and her hip with the other. "I – I," she stammered, failing to come up with anything witty in reply. "NO! Stop trying to seduce me, Vegeta – I'm not going to fall for it," she snapped, a scowl scrawling onto her face. "Keep on talking all you want, but just know this: the only way you'll ever catch me in bed with the likes of you is if you get me to fall in love with you first!" Bulma bared her teeth and stared up at him furiously, doing her best to be intimidating without a shirt on.

Vegeta gawked at her in surprise. Was that a challenge he heard ringing in his ears? Slowly, a conniving smirk spread over his lips and darkened his eyes, and Bulma had to stop herself from shivering at his wickedness. "Alright," he drawled, gently sliding his hand from her arm to her neck to caress her soft skin, "That sounds easy enough. How about I start now, little female?"

Bulma froze, her eyes widening and glistening with moisture. She had to keep her composure – surely he wasn't serious? "You…" she started, "You actually think you can make me fall in love with you that easily?" With a twitch of her cheek, suddenly Bulma burst out laughing uproariously. "You – _hah – _tender and sweet – _heehee_ – 'The Prince of All Saiyans' – just a little lamb!"

Vegeta moved his grip to both of her arms as his face darkened in fury and resentment. "Shut up, Woman!" he yelled over her guffaws as she went slack in his arms and tried to clutch her stomach.

"Oh Geta – you're so _dreamy_," she mocked breathily, tears beginning to drop from the corners of her eyes.

"YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU EVER – "

"Make _love_ to me, Sugar-pie!" she squealed, fanning her face.

Vegeta roared and began to shake her vigorously.

"Let's make pretty babies!" she laughed – until she felt his mouth slam over hers.

Vegeta crushed her to his chest, one hand tangled in the hair at the base of her neck and the other as a vice to hug her tightly and lock her arms to her sides. Bulma's eyes popped open in astonishment and she tried to struggle in vain as his mouth moved fiercely over hers, but to no avail. She was forced to still and try to ignore the part of her that screamed for him until a moment later when he pulled his face away to meet her dagger-filled glare. Though his mind was cloaked in a haze of lust and contentment, there was an awkward pause that even he felt. "Well," he rasped huskily, eyes darting to her wet, swollen lips and back to her gaze, "You _did_ ask for it."

For a moment Bulma had to stare at him coolly before it her mind worked it out and it dawned on her… Had Vegeta just made a joke? Unwillingly a tiny smile began to spread across her face, and suddenly she was giggling sweetly again, and then laughing heartily. Vegeta himself belatedly realized his good humor – something he tried to generally avoid – and started to grin as well, though his eyebrows stayed resolutely contracted. Something she was doing was making his stomach feel… nice. Her laughter was ringing in his ears and filling his chest in a way that nothing had ever done before. He wanted to make her laugh _more_.

As soon as Vegeta began to loosen his grip, Bulma – still giggling – put her hands up against his chest and pushed against him teasingly. "Alright then – you can try," she said, finally calming down but keeping that twinkle in her eye. Looking up into his shining eyes, Bulma realized that she had never seen Vegeta look so uninhibited or young – and happy. _This could be really good for him…_ "Just don't do anything TOO sweet. I wouldn't want to be overwhelmed," she teased as she turned away to twist one last knob in the control panel. "There," she said happily as she spun back to him with her hands on her hips, "Now if you'd pop that back in place – I'm going to go change."

Lifting a mocking eyebrow, Vegeta replied, "Whatever for?" as he stepped back from her.

"I just don't want you to suffer from love-sickness, Geta," she quipped as she snapped up her shirt from the floor and breezed past him to the door. "I'm not _that_ cruel."

Vegeta smirked as she left. He had always enjoyed a challenge, and this one seemed ludicrously easy compared to anything else. He had to admit though… He would miss seeing her so exposed.

Sauntering across the lawn, her head held high and a smile tugging at her lips, Bulma proudly tossed her shirt over her shoulder with one delicate finger and showed off her adorable lingerie. Things had gone differently than she had anticipated, but what could you expect when Vegeta was –

"BULMA?"

Stopping in her tracks, she swiftly spun to look at the bewildered Yamcha, who was busy examining her frilly undergarments with wide eyes. "Yes?" she replied innocently, flashing him a brilliant smile.

"What are you – why were you in the GR… in your underwear… with – "

"Huge water malfunction," she said flippantly, turning back towards the house. "Plus, if you've got it, flaunt it."

With that, she left a stunned Yamcha in her wake and retreated inside to figure out her next plan of action. Bulma Briefs had always been well-aware… War is War.

**A/N: Whew! I've been pretty ill lately, but I'm definitely going to try to update sooner this time. I'm also toying with a new story idea for B/V… anyway, REVIEW PLEASE!!!**


	9. Gird Up, Vegeta

**A/N: Sorry again that this is taking so long! This chapter's a bit shorter, but kind of a bridge for the next one so...**

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 9: Gird Up, Vegeta

Vegeta crossed his arms temperamentally and glared at the little green sprouts in the ground. So this was it? Dark eyes scanning the growth critically, he wandered over to the other rows until he promptly grew bored. Where was that blasted woman anyway? Right on cue his ears pricked up as the slamming of the door and a muffled curse floated across the grass accompanied by Bulma, bedecked in bright shorts, a fitted shirt, and a ridiculously large sun hat. Lodged between her teeth was a pair of gloves while she balanced a basket of gardening supplies in one hand and a platter of sandwiches and two drinks in the other.

"Where the hell have you been?" Vegeta demanded as he eyed her midriff peaking from beneath her shirt, "I've been waiting for nearly two minutes, girl."

Glaring at him with steely eyes, Bulma set her baggage down (including the gloves and her hat) and set her hands on her hips. "Well if _someone_ had wanted me here sooner he could have come and helped me carry all this out here!"

"I am no pack animal," he scoffed, moving towards to food platter.

With a strangled cry, she slapped his hand and jumped between him and the food. "Not so fast, buster! I made all this for you and you are going to _appreciate_ it before you inhale it!"

"I would appreciate you moving out of the way," he growled as he felt the emptiness in his stomach after his long morning of training.

"Fine," she replied snobbishly, thrusting her nose into the air, "But just know that if you think you're any closer to earning my L-O-V-E that you are sadly mistaken, Vegeta."

Vegeta barked out a laugh. "Do you honestly think you can manipulate me that way, Bulma?" he said with a flash of his teeth.

"Yes," she said sheepishly, abruptly switching tactics by lowering her head and peering up at him through doleful, glistening eyes.

Taken aback, Vegeta blinked at her ridiculous switch in character. _God, these females are dangerous…_ "Well it's – not going to work," he said suspiciously as though she might react violently.

"Why not?" she cooed seductively as she leaned into his chest. "I thought that's what you wanted, Geta."

He felt his groin throb painfully even though he knew that Bulma was simply toying with him. "What I want," he said slowly as he brought a gentle hand to her chin and let his lips descend towards hers, "Right this very moment…" Vegeta curled one hand behind her back, setting her stomach aflame with desire and her mind tumbling, "Is… food," and suddenly a sandwich appeared before her eyes as he brought it to his lips and chewed sinfully.

"AH!" she screamed in frustration as she shoved his chuckling figure away from herself. "You disgust me, Vegeta!"

Swallowing, he replied, "Just what I wanted," with a feral grin.

Throwing her hands in the air and howling, she retorted, "Forget it! Just forget it!" Vegeta watched in perverse delight as she bent over and began to pick up her belongings again. "I try to be nice to you and you can't even manage to…" Unexpectedly she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and gently tug her upright. Bulma gasped as butterflies erupted all over again, and she stared off into the distance as she felt his breath fan against her ear.

"Did I mention," he began softly, brushing his lips across her hair, "That one of the perks of bedding you would be your other services?"

Bulma had the insane reaction to laugh, cry, and punch him in the face all at the same time. "I'm not a – a service robot, Vegeta!" she replied with a shaking voice as she placed her hands over his in order to tug him off.

"No… you're not," he said thoughtfully, letting his chin rest against the crook of her neck. Bulma stilled at the gravity of his voice and let herself breathe instead, willing him to continue. Vegeta, however, was preoccupied with the feeling of her toned stomach beneath his gloved fingers, and he slowly began to flex them across her abdomen as he peered over her shoulder to watch his wandering digits. Bulma sucked in with a hiss and dropped her hands from his.

"What are you doing?" she whispered huskily when she saw no sign of him stopping his musings.

Smirking and nosing her hair for the briefest moment, Vegeta let his fingers meander down to the hem of her shirt where it rode up above her shorts. "Shut up," he rasped in her ear, sending shudders down her spine, and for once she didn't respond. His soul soared at her obvious surrender, and a growl slipped through his lips as he gently and painstakingly tugged up the fabric, sliding one hand beneath to follow the soft dips and curves of her stomach. Finally he let the top rest beneath her breasts, and he let the other hand resume its exploration as well.

"Vegeta," she breathed as her heart raced in her chest. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she sighed and brought her hands to her sides to clutch his muscled thighs. Vegeta felt a jolt run through his system at the nearness of her hands, and he snarled at himself as he felt his groin harden – this closeness wasn't enough. Frustrated at himself, he snatched off his gloves with blinding speed and latched onto her stomach again, reveling in the warmth and softness of her skin. It had been so long since he'd had a woman, and Bulma was an exceptional woman. She squeaked weakly at his sudden intrusion, and turned her face to lightly rest her lips against the jutting tendon of his neck. Responding to her willingness, Vegeta grasped her hip and crushed her against him, letting his other hand glide across her stomach up to the edge of her bra. With that, her eyes popped open and her hands flew to cover his as her chest heaved. Her silent "no" was resounding, and even in his lust Vegeta heard it. With an exasperated growl he let his hands drop to her hips again, tugging the hem of her shirt down with them.

For a moment Bulma let the silence stretch between them as her mind raced through what had transpired, and she began to tremble from the loss of adrenaline. As her hands rested atop his her eyelashes fluttered against his neck, and Vegeta strained between his desire to shove her tiny form away and his need to throw her to the ground and continue ravishing her. With a little sigh she struggled to turn around in his embrace, clutching his shoulders in desperation and nuzzling his neck as she trembled against him. "You're not making this easy for me, are you?" she murmured affectionately.

Clasping her buttocks unintentionally, Vegeta smirked as he realized their intimate position and her exposed desire for him. "I never said anything about easy," he replied smoothly with a squeeze of her butt, earning a squeak from her.

"You never said much of anything," she giggled as she bent back her head to look up at him with sparkling blue eyes. "What exactly are you thinking, anyway?"

A hint of mirth shone in his eyes. "You really want me to tell you?" he growled sinfully, letting one hand glide to the back of her head to cup it gently, entangling his fingers in her thick tresses.

A thin wrinkle appeared between her brows as she contemplated his actions. "No," she said thoughtfully, absently tracing a finger up the column of his neck to his jaw, "I don't want you to tell me what you're really thinking. I want you to tell me pretend things – about how you think I'm so beautiful it hurts to look at me, about how you hate every moment you're apart from me, and about how I'm not merely a tool or a means to an end, a means to your ascension. Pretend things – trifling nothingness…" she finished sadly, pushing away from him a little as she looked up into his eyes with a vulnerable stare.

Taken aback by her sudden honesty, Vegeta make no reply and simply looked back at her. So this is what she felt when she looked at him? He remembered his harsh words to her the other night after the party. How could she cling to such meaningless things for so long? "Don't be foolish," he muttered curtly, his eyes following the path of his hand as it tenderly stroked through her hair. "You take trivial comments to heart and wound yourself, girl." In all honesty he recognized his own desire for her – body and soul. He had come to terms with the fact that he wanted to brand her as his, and her depressing demeanor put a damper on his seize-and-conquer plans. He wanted a wild stallion in the bed, not some wilting flower…

"Well maybe I wouldn't be so _sensitive_ if you wouldn't be such an asshole to me," she snapped in irritation, unconsciously gathering his shirt in her fists as she tried to ignore the tenderness with which he held her. "You've made it clear multiple times what you expect of me, and I don't appreciate being treated like a piece of meat, Vegeta."

"I think you might appreciate it very much," he cajoled with a smirk as he declined his head to nip lightly at her neck.

"I'm not going to have sex with any man unless I'm sure he's the right one for me," she said bluntly with an edge of panic in her voice as she felt desire seat itself in her womb again at his playfulness.

Teeth flashing at her unwillingness, Vegeta tugged her head back by her hair and scraped his canines against her fluttering pulse. "Fool. I am no human," he growled seductively as he moved his lips to her clavicle – dangerously near her chest. "You have no idea of the difference between a mere man and a male Saiyan…" he purred, clenching her buttock with the other hand. "We never tire, we are insatiable and," he finally looked back to her eyes with flaming pupils, "We are masters in the art of fucking."

Bulma's heart jumped into her throat. His style was so unconventional and downright rude that it shook her to the core. God, he was sexy. She knew perfectly well that he could throw her into a wall and fuck her senseless or lay her atop silken sheets and patiently stroke her till she screamed in ecstasy – and she wanted it all. At the thought her knees buckled and she found herself clinging to him like a damsel in distress. "Don't…" she suddenly begged, the word leaping from her mouth unbidden and freezing the air around them; nonetheless, Vegeta smirked triumphantly at her weakness, and with a sinister chuckle he leaned forward and captured her lips with his again.

Hungrily he ravished her mouth as she hung nearly limp in his arms. Powerless to fend off his attack or her own feelings, Bulma merely closed her eyes and let him do the work as her stomach flamed with repressed desires. Vegeta, on the other hand, began to grow annoyed with her lack of enthusiasm and a rumble of warning erupted in his throat as he crushed her to him, his tongue flicking in and out of her warm cavern. For a moment he pulled his mouth from hers. "You can do better," he rasped darkly as her head lolled in his palm, her chest heaving against his.

"I'm too weak…" she whispered back, closing her eyes against reality and the intrusion of his sexuality. For a moment he hesitated, his lips hovering tantalizingly above hers. To what was she referring? Too weak to kiss back or too weak to fuck a Saiyan? With an irritated growl he reared his head back and clasped her head and body to his chest to support her listless body.

"Of course you're weak," he muttered in agitation, his eyes darting about to ensure that no one was around to view his intimate interactions with this woman, "You're a mere human."

Bulma had a sense of déjà vu as she remembered their conversation the first time they had kissed. "This is so embarrassing…" she groaned as she clung desperately to him.

Vegeta snorted. "I find that you are most often in an embarrassing situation, Bulma," he said haughtily, and suddenly he swept her off her feet to cradle her in his arms. "Nonetheless, it's only natural to feel completely overcome by my royal appearance and demeanor."

With a quavering sigh, Bulma looped an arm around his neck and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. "Why do you make everything so difficult, Geta?" she asked dejectedly.

"If you're expecting me to salivate and perseverate over your very being then I advise you to return to that weakling of yours," he answered gruffly as he carried her over to the sun chair beneath the tree and set her down. Standing upright and crossing his arms with a frown, he looked over her appearance with a raised brow. After settling herself, she finally looked up at him with a sheepish smile, her eyes beaming up at him in all their blue glory. Inwardly he cringed. Next time he wouldn't be so nice to her…

"Well if you continue in this manner, my Prince, then you might very well be on the path to wooing me," she said sweetly, batting her lashes at him.

"I'm not wooing shit," he growled as he avoided her gaze.

Patting the space next to her hip, Bulma ignored his remark. "Take a seat, cowboy."

With a grunt of assent and a brooding glance over his shoulder, Vegeta acquiesced. "Don't try to have one of those 'Talks' with me, girl," he grunted, crossing his arms, "I have no desire to enter into the abyss that is your mind."

"Well at least you admit I've got one," she sighed as she sat up and squished up against him, swinging her legs down next to his. She paused with a glance at his hands that hung casually between his legs and wondered vaguely whether he would ever try to hold hers; however, just leaning up against him gave her some hope that he would become more relaxed about the whole relationship thing.

…Relationship.

Bulma blinked in surprise as she realized that she considered having a relationship with the Prince of All Saiyans – the murderer of millions – the galactic purger – the sworn enemy of her best friend. _Did_ they already have one? Bulma glanced over at his stoic face. Had Vegeta ever even _had_ a relationship before?

"Stop staring," he grunted crabbily, evaporating her reverie. "If you have something to say then just say it – but _no talk_."

With a gulp, she turned her head and looked into his impenetrable eyes. "No," she replied politely, "I won't. It's not my job."

Vegeta blinked dumbly. "What?"

"I said no – it's not my job to talk to you about all of… this," she said as she looked away to stare straight in front of her. "It's the man's job. I'm tired of being nice and dropping hints and running around trying to conveniently be where you are. That's _your_ job, Vegeta," she finished softly as she looked at her hands. "The man is supposed to chase after the woman and that's how it is."

Vegeta sat silently and stared at her face. What did she think he was – one of those men from the human 'fairytales?' "I am the Prince of All Saiyans, you fool." In a haze he stood up to scowl down at her expectant, blue eyes. "I chase after no female – she will come to _me_," he said haughtily as something uncomfortable swirled in his stomach, like he had blasted an enemy but had yet to find his comrades. Right then he realized that something had gone wrong as her wide eyes narrowed into dangerous, navy slits.

"Yes," she hissed as she jumped up to glare at him at an uneasy proximity, "She _will_ come to you. Whichever servant-girl or whore you choose, she will come to you." With that, Bulma shoved him out of her way and stormed towards the house, her blue hair blowing out behind her.

Vegeta felt a stone drop in his stomach as a haze of ire clouded in his head. "You – you left your SHIT out here!" he bellowed at her back, his fists clenched.

"Yeah, and I left my GARDENING STUFF TOO!" she screamed as she slammed the door behind her.

"ARGH!" he yelled, kicking the basket in his fury and exploding it on impact. _Great, one more thing for her to bitch at me about…_ This was getting ridiculous. One moment he was close to ripping off her blouse and the next he was close to ripping off her head – and now he couldn't decide which he wanted! Glancing at the garden one last time, he growled in surrender as he recognized a losing battle when he saw one. He was now no closer to bedding the woman than before, and he could tell by the look in her eyes – something between desperation, violent anger, and despair – that she was in a place that he couldn't reach her. For heavens' sake, he couldn't even comprehend the number of feelings that she felt at one time because three was about his maximum, not to mention that he couldn't physically _feel_ some of the things that silly female could.

Vegeta looked towards the house. This was it. He had to find a way to coax her onto his side without allowing her think that he was letting her win: he was not going to let her see him "chase after" her, and he was not going to let her think that he lo… No, that stupid human emotion was unacceptable and foreign. And it was not going to happen.

_Although…_ he thought shrewdly as he slowly drifted towards the house, _She seems to be loathe to mate without that binding contract… Perhaps I should consider…_ but he couldn't let himself finish that revolting thought. He knew he was stuck, and for once he had no idea what to do with it. He was going to have to pull out the big guns… he was going to have to dig deep and suck it up… he was going to need help... Vegeta sighed and girded his loins.

He was going to need Bunny.

**  
A/N: Thanks for continuing to read! It's going slowly but hopefully I'll be quicker with the next chapter. Reviews are lovely!**


	10. Less Talk, More Action Please

**A/N: Read and enjoy, folks.**

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 10: Less Talk, More Action Please

Vegeta heard the door to Bulma's room slam as he slipped in to the kitchen and warily examined his surroundings. Waiting like an open grave, the kitchen gleamed pristinely with the exception of a vase of bulging flowers which lay spilled across the table, water dripping ominously onto the fallen petals on the floor. Something about the tumbled flowers bothered Vegeta, and his eye twitched in irritation as he stalked over to the table to scrutinize the mess. Carefully, he knelt down to gently pluck an orchid from the puddle and brushed his thumb across the pearly petal. _Bulma's mother must be lingering around here somewhere_, he thought distractedly as he stood with the flower in hand. Glancing one last time at the pooling flowers, he set the orchid on a nearby counter and stalked into the living room, searching out the blonde woman's ki and locating it in the sunroom.

As he entered the glassed-in room, sunlight streaming gold through the air, Vegeta found Bunny delicately watering tiny potted plants with a miniature watering can. Oddly, she didn't look up as he rigidly walked toward her, and Vegeta had to resort to clearing his throat for her to finally look up.

Fixing Vegeta with an uncharacteristically piercing stare, Bunny set the watering can down. "Let me guess. You're here about Bulma," she stated softly as she crossed her arms to mirror his.

Vegeta's stomach leaped into his throat. _When did this airhead develop a brain?_ he thought in irritation as his cover was blown. Without comment he nodded briefly.

Bunny stared at him for a moment before she lifted the watering can again and returned to the plants. "Aren't you two making a garden together? It's all very sweet..." she said softly as she attended to her african violets. Vegeta shifted in agitation, but Bunny was used to his silence as an answer. "I know you don't know much about plants, especially flowers. They're delicate little things, Vegeta. All of them need exact amounts of water, sunlight, and nutrients to flourish." Suddenly she turned, and Vegeta stepped back in alarm at her gaze. "My Bulma is a flower, Vegeta. She's needs a very special man, and I believe you're the one," she said abruptly.

Vegeta stopped breathing in complete bewilderment. _What_?he thought with wide eyes as he took another step back.

"I know you don't want to believe it, but you can make her happy, and she can make you happy too. I'm well aware that most things go over my head around here," she continued, clutching the can to her chest, "But if there's one thing I know about, it's love."

Vegeta thought to himself that love was indeed probably the only thing this ridiculous woman could comprehend...

"...but now you've really done it, Vegeta," she scolded, putting the can down again and fixing him with a reproachful stare. "Bulma is hurt. That's your fault. I know that you two are obnoxiously stubborn, but you've got to handle this and make her feel better."

"I'm not --" he began.

"Uh-uh, Vegeta. This is on you. If you want her, you have to get her, because my Bulma won't wait around for you to sweep her off her feet, and for that matter, Yamcha isn't going to wait around either."

Vegeta felt like a fist had closed on his heart. "What has that fool got to do with anything?" he hissed menacingly, the tendons in his neck bulging.

Rolling her eyes, Bunny sighed, "Everything. Yamcha has everything to do with it. Bulma doesn't want him the way that she wants you, but sometimes that can be overcome by devotion."

"I'm not following."

"Yamcha _loves_ her, as deeply as he can, and he wants her back. Half of being in love is knowing that the other person would do anything to have you, so if you think about it... he's halfway to winning her already."

Swinging his gaze away from hers, Vegeta glared out on the meadow with clenched fists. _That fool_... he thought murderously. "Yes, well I'm not talking about _love_," he spat in distaste, "I'm talking about mating."

Bunny considered him for a moment, curiously staring at his turned back. "Are you?" she asked quietly as she gently touched a flower bud.

Vegeta turned back to wordlessly look at her in consternation.

"Is that what you want? For Bulma to live with you... have _sex_ with you... only for the fun of it? For you to know that at any given moment she might turn around and leave, or that she might be thinking of someone else?"

Vegeta's brow furrowed as her words sank in. He wanted to own the blue-haired woman, to possess the little demon that lurked beneath her blissful facade, to rip the face off that scarred bastard...

As she watched the tiny flicker of emotions pass over his face, Bunny began to smile. "Bulma's in it for love, dear," she said serenely. "And I think you might be too."

Vegeta focused on the older woman and moodily glared at her. There was no way in hell he was going to...

"You don't have to say anything," she coohed, clasping her hands together hopefully, "Just know... that I know. Now all that's left is for Bulma to know."

"Now wait just one --"

"And you think she's going to put out without loving you?" she snapped sassily. "Now come on, we've got work to do," she said lightly, flouncing up to him happily and snagging him by the arm. "I will have grandchildren one day, and I'd rather it be before I'm in a wheelchair."

"You're _insane_," he said with a blush as she dragged him down the hallway.

"You have no idea, dear."

**

Yamcha fidgeted with his collar as he leaped down to the lab doorstep with flowers in hand. Daisies were her favorite, if he could remember correctly, but he figured flowers in general would be a nice enough gesture to grease the wheels a bit. Raising his hand to knock on the door, Yamcha was surprised when the door swung back to reveal her father instead.

"Something you need, boy?" Dr. Briefs asked politely, eyeing the flowers in Yamcha's hand and his ironed button-down shirt.

"Ah, yeah -- Is Bulma here?" Yamcha asked, suddenly nervous for a reason he couldn't identify.

"She's working, working away," Dr. Briefs said with uncharacteristic testiness. "I can give those to her if you'd like," he continued, nodding at the flowers and fixing Yamcha with a steely gaze that was nothing less than terrifying from the little man.

"Uh, I wanted to give them to her mys..." he trailed off at the irritation on the old man's face. "Sure, if you could take these? Um, if you could tell her --"

"Alright then. Be sure to get some cookies from Bunny on your way out. She always has extras," Dr. Briefs said bluntly, and then snapped the door closed on Yamcha's stunned face.

Standing there in confusion for a moment, Yamcha scratched his head distractedly. _What the hell just happened_? He and Dr. Briefs had always been on good terms, but this afternoon he was just...

"Yoo-hoo!" Bunny called from the kitchen door. "I thought that was you, Yamcha!"

Yamcha turned around with his goofy smile and walked to her. "Yeah, I was just here to see B, but she must be really busy, because your husband --"

"Ah yes, they're working on some upgrades for sweet Vegeta's gravity room," she said blithely, cutting into his words. "Would you like some double-chocolate cookies? I've just made a batch and I have some I won't be using..."

Somehow, her invitation felt like an insult, but Yamcha brushed it off. "Sure, that'd be great..."

With a smile, Bunny turned and led him into the house. "I'll make you up a little to-go bag. The rest of these are for tonight..."

Yamcha gazed in amazement at the massive stacks of sweets littering the counter, from cookies to brownies to cakes in the middle of being iced. "What's going on tonight?" he asked incredulously as she plopped a few cookies into a crisp, white bag and smoothed the crease. "I'm just having a little garden party for my friends. Nothing big," she said with an eerie smile.

"Ah..." he said with a frown as she handed him the bag and began to shoo him out the door again.

"Now it's so nice to see you, but we've got tons of preparations to do..."

Suddenly something clicked in Yamcha's head as he reached the door, and his hand shot out to grasp the door frame as he stopped moving.

"What's Bulma doing again?" he asked abruptly. "I think I'd like to talk to her now."

Bunny's cheek twitched as he turned his head to look at her. "She asked for no visitors today. Apparently there's a mathematic problem that's more important than the decorations for the party," she said with a pout.

Yamcha surveyed her quietly. Something was off today, and he couldn't figure it out, but two could play this game. "That's fine," he replied smoothly, "So is this party going to be huge?"

Bunny's face brightened, and she began to shoo him out again. "Yes! It'll be grand. We're celebrating the delights of picnics at this one, and all my wonderful friends will be here..."

Yamcha calculated that by Bunny's standards that could be anywhere from fifty to three hundred people. "I see. Well good, I'll get to talk to Bulma then. Thanks for the cookies!" he said as he blasted off the doorstep into the air before she could reply.

"No -- it's not--" she yelled after him, but knew it was no use. "Fiddlesticks," she muttered as she watched Yamcha fly away. "That boy will do anything for her..."

Meanwhile, Dr. Briefs walked from his lab to Bulma's with flowers in his hand. "Sweetie?" he called out to the massive room that housed their largest endeavors. He heard her reply among the rows of supplies, and he walked toward it. "Someone dropped flowers off to you, but he didn't want to talk to you about it," he said easily as he set them on one of the vacant desks.

"No way! Who..." she replied, stopping as she only considered two candidates.

"Well I said I wouldn't tell. He was quite sorry for that little spat you had earlier, but he doesn't want you to know he sent them. Quite flustered, that boy," he continued as he walked to the door again to leave his daughter alone. "Who knew that Vegeta would ever send you flowers?"

Bulma stood in amazed silence as the door clicked behind her father.

**

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Bulma yelled as she stomped into the kitchen where her mother sat putting the finishing touches on her sugar flowers. "I've had _two_ designers come in to ask me about decorations, _four_ chefs come to make me sample their "best courses," a bouquet of flowers sent to me anonymously, and _you're_ in here baking away like a possessed cook!"

Icing in one hand and spun sugar in the other, Bunny beamed up at her daughter from atop her stool. "Why, a party, of course!" she replied happily. "A surprise party -- I just planned it today and you're going to love it. It's picnic themed!"

Bulma stared mutely at her mother as a metaphorical storm cloud began to brew above her head. "What... are... you... doing...?" Bulma said lowly, grasping the counter with her creamy hands.

Bunny blinked up at her daughter innocently. "You know how much I love a good party, dear, and I figured that after that little row you had with Vegeta you could use some cheering up. Is that so wrong?"

Narrowing her eyes at the bubbly blonde, Bulma slowly replied, "Don't think I underestimate you, Mom. I'm watching you."

"Fabulous! Then what do you think of this dress?" Bunny said excitedly, throwing her frilly apron aside to reveal a blindingly yellow dress.

With a snort, Bulma turned around and left the room to brood in her own abode.

"Oh, and Paulo's upstairs to help you get ready!"

Bulma froze in the hallway. ...This was serious.

Leaping down the hall and bounding up the stairs, Bulma flew into her room to find racks and racks of dresses strewn about the room and Paulo standing before her with a devious smile on his face. With a laugh, he moved forward to kiss her on the cheeks. "Don't be so surprised, doll," he said happily, "We can't do everything on our own." Bulma stared into his affectionate face, and at his words, broke down bawling in his arms. "There there, dear," he coohed as he held her and rubbed her back, "I know how it is. These men and their careless words and their finicky ways... They're just terrible," he sighed, laying his chin atop her head. Bulma weeped against his chest and hugged him tightly as he led her to her bed and sat down with her.

"I just -- I just don't know why -- he has to be so mean," she hiccuped, covering her face with her hands.

"I know, I know..."

"I mean, he's had it so hard, and he tries so hard, it makes me sad, but he makes me happy when he's not sad -- and that's all it takes," she wailed incoherently.

Paulo raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow as he continued to rub her back. "Looks like the little princess might be in love," he said matter-of-factly.

Hiccuping one last time, Bulma raised her head to look at her loyal friend and stylist. "Do you think so?" she whispered as tears leaked out of her eyes.

"Oh honey, that's not for me to figure out," he said warmly, "But I _can_ tell you that you never were so selfless with Yamcha. Sounds to me like you've got it bad..."

Bulma sniffled. "Yeah, I guess so, but he doesn't want me for me," she said sadly, "He just wants me for my equipment."

"I can't tell if you're making a dirty joke or not," he laughed, and Bulma replied with a weak chuckle of her own. "You know," he continued, "I didn't see too much of you two at the last party, but I think I saw enough to tell you that he wants you quite badly. There aren't many men like that, darling, but when one comes by you've got to snag him up..." He looked down on her fondly. "...If only for the sex."

"Paulo!" she cried, grabbing a pillow and smacking him lightly on the arm. "You're terrible!"

"Sad but true. Let's get you ready to command and conquer," he replied with a jolly laugh. "You've got a man to win."

"Correction: he's got a woman to win," she bantered as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"It's all the same to me, honey. To the Versace!" he cried.

Two hours, one bubble bath, and one Valentino dress later, Bulma sat before the vanity as Paulo's makeup artist dusted rosy blush across her cheeks. "Staying with today's theme, we're going with the natural look tonight," Paulo said affectionately as he fingered the single strap of her lavender dress and tousled her blue waves which he had curled to look like a turn-of-the-century hollywood movie star. "Now I'm giving you some beautiful flats so this look can be a little more casual, but there's no way to take the glam out of this baby."

Glancing into the mirror at her dress, Bulma noted the shortness of the dress and stuck her hands in the nearly-invisible pockets. She would look effortless and modest, with a hint of sexuality in the bare shoulder and the length of creamy thigh beneath. "You make me happy," she sighed with a gleaming smile to Paulo.

"Of course, but it's not _you_ we're trying to make happy. It's that man-hunk you're after. Now here are some fabulous gold bangles, and these --" he bent to her ears and popped two huge pearl droplets in each, "Will finish the look off perfectly. Any questions?" he asked as he watched her lips being painted with a barely-there pink.

Bulma winked, and Paulo set off to Vegeta's room with a smile. "Just going to check up on your mother!" he yelled over his shoulder.

Vegeta himself waited for Paulo uncomfortably as he surveyed his attire in the mirror -- something he was loathe to do in general. He had begrudgingly let Paulo choose a shirt for him, and he felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he glared at the mint green button down. Bunny had declared him to look roguishly tan and dangerous against the hue, but all Vegeta could think of was how it reminded him of Zarbon in an odd way. Oh well.

"Oh. My. Gosh." Paulo gasped as he entered and saw Vegeta. With a twitch of his eye, the prince turned to glare at the intruder. "That khaki and mint together just take that outfit to a whole new level!"

"It's not an _outfit_," Vegeta grumbled as he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, "It's clothing."

"Whatever you say, honey, but go ahead and --" Paulo reached up to Vegeta's throat but the Saiyan swatted him away.

"I can do that myself," he muttered as he unbuttoned the top two buttons to reveal enough bronze muscle and tanned skin to keep a woman salivating but still guessing. "When does this shit start?"

"You can go downstairs now if you'd like, but you should stay out of sight until it all gets going. That's what Bunny says, anyway," Paulo sighed wistfully, hating to let the beautiful specimen out of his sight.

"Tell the blonde I'll be back at sundown," he said gruffly, and with that he shoved past the stylist to flee to the world below.

Paulo smiled and fanned his cheeks. "Whew. Will do, darling... Somebody get me a napkin..."

**A/N: Review review review!!!**


	11. Words, Words, Words

**A/N: I gotta be honest here... I'm pretty excited about these next few chapters.**

**Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.**

Chapter 11: Words, Words, Words...

Dotted with blankets, candles, and couples meandering about, the meadow glittered as the sun sank and darkness began to stretch its tendrils out across the sky. The few children there reached up and took sneaking finger-fulls of icing from the cakes that towered on the tables near the house, and men gathered plates of sweets for their wives as the women chatted animatedly and glanced at the dresses that swayed with the strains of music in the air. Bunny was a proud woman that night. With bubble-gum pink lipstick and her canary yellow dress, she darted about her guests and watched impatiently for any sign of flaming black hair against blue tresses. Bulma herself played the perfect hostess' daughter as she demurely moved from guest to guest, smiling enchantingly at the men and laughing at the ladies' jokes. Despite her demeanor, she nervously slid her eyes from face to face and searched for the one she longed to see in her pain. Nearly hidden behind her hair, a single, small daisy was tucked behind her ear.

Bunny looked up and into the crowd as she felt her mother senses tingling. "Alright everyone, time to hit the blankets!" she cried happily as she clapped her hands together. With a knowing smile, she looked towards the towering tree and saw Vegeta leaning against the trunk as he observed the blanket below it, noting the elaborate candelabra and the array of sweets that Bunny had baked specifically for them. In his hand he held a bouquet of violet orchids, green buttons, and lavender wax flowers.

Turning from the dark suitor, Bunny glided to her daughter and grasped her by the upper arm. "Come on dear, there's a place here just for you," she said softly, looking fondly into her daughter's eyes.

Bulma smiled back at her mother and let her lead her to the meadow along with the other guest that milled around before them. As they paused to let a large group of couples pass, Bulma gasped in surprise when the people gapped to reveal Vegeta standing before her against the light of the candles, and his eyes boring into hers with a fierce intensity. One hand clutched the flowers, while the other clenched into a tense fist.

Bunny blissfully waved at Vegeta and then gently shoved Bulma towards him. "He's been waiting," she said softly, and as Bulma turned to stare at her mother in bewilderment Bunny smiled and flounced off to the rest of the party that waited far enough away from the tree to give the two privacy.

Slowly, Bulma turned back towards Vegeta as her throat went dry with nervousness and butterflies burst through her stomach. His eyes watched her shrewdly, and though he stood in what Bulma considered the most romantic situation she could ever think of, his face betrayed no emotion. Finally, Bulma couldn't take the silence. "Hey you," she squeaked softly as she took a few steps towards him. Vegeta simply cocked his head to the side a bit, like a cat watching a mouse in mild interest. His own heart pounded fiercely in his chest and adrenalin surged through his veins as he watched her seductive figure sway towards him, and his fingers itched to stretch out and grasp her little frame to his. At the same time, he felt a pinprick in the distance that set his blood boiling: Yamcha was nearing the building; nonetheless, his attention was solely on this bewitching female.

"Here," he said gruffly, holding the bouquet out stiffly and failing to keep the his self-loathing completely out of his face, "Take these."

Bulma blinked in surprise at his gesture. _Twice in one day?_ She reached out her trembling hands and gathered the flowers to her chest as she took in their silken scent. "Thank you, Vegeta," she breathed, looking up into his eyes with her giant blue orbs and feeling her heart swell like never before.

Feeling her adoration rolling of her body in waves, Vegeta blushed in the moonlight and said brusquely, "They're violet."

"Yes... yes, I see," she replied as a little smile crept onto her lips.

"...You like violet," he continued huskily as his eyes searched hers for the truth.

Bulma felt like she was going to die from her butterflies. "I'd like anything you gave me," she whispered earnestly as she took a step closer to him, only the flowers keeping their bodies apart.

"But I chose violet," he muttered as his scowl began to return in his consternation. Had he chosen the wrong ones? Did she not like them?

"Because you pay attention to what I like," she said blissfully as she reached one hand up to tenderly cup the side of his face.

At her words and her touch, Vegeta both relaxed and tensed. He could barely stand the small distance between them, and her touch ignited a fire in his chest that leaped through all his limbs. Once again there was silence between them as they gazed into each other's eyes, and Bulma slowly slipped her hand away from his face with a blush. "Did you set this up?" she asked lightly as she glanced behind him to the picnic beneath the tree.

Vegeta shook himself out of his lustful musings. "Sort of," he grumbled in mild irritation. "Your mother..."

"Yes, my mother," she commented with a cocked eyebrow. "We'll get to that later."

Vegeta glanced over to the blanket waiting innocently behind them. "There's cake," he said gruffly, trying to be polite in a non-weakling way.

"And it looks delicious. Let's sit," she said smoothly, secretly pleased at what she knew was a great struggle in Vegeta's head. Vegeta eyed her for a moment before he moved to the side to let her pass, and Bulma noted with joy that he checked the surroundings for danger beforehand and continued to stay alert behind her. He may not have known it, but he was certainly being protective of her.

Smoothing out her dress and gently settling herself down on the blanket, Bulma tossed her hair to one shoulder and stared up at Vegeta as he towered above her, still scanning the crowd with a frown. "What's wrong?" she asked as a scowl deepened in his face.

Vegeta abruptly turned his attention down to her again and his eyes roved over her face and figure, pulling a pretty blush into her cheeks. "What's in your hair?" he replied, ignoring her question.

Running her hand through her aqua tresses, Bulma smiled as she pulled out the little daisy. "Just a little keepsake," she mused coquettishly as she held it up to show him, "But I like the ones you brought me tonight better."

Vegeta's face hardened as he plucked the bud from her fingers, growling, "Then who brought you these?" even as he knew the answer.

"...I thought... you..." Bulma stammered as confusion clouded her features. Vegeta brought the flower to his nose as a familiar scent drifted up.

"Who told you that?" he rasped, his dark eyes pinning her to the ground.

Bulma's mind raced as she began to put the pieces together: The party, the flowers, Vegeta, her mother... her father? "Well, Daddy did," she said begrudgingly, "But -- I guess they were from..."

"The weakling," Vegeta snarled as he turned to face the man who walked across the lawn to them. Bulma followed his eyes and paled at the intrusion that came with the determination of a battle. "It figures that he would come," he said lowly.

Yamcha strode across the far end of the yard, but as soon as he began to pick his way among the guests, Bunny Briefs took it upon herself to intercept him. ""Yoohoo! Yamcha!" she called in a piercing voice, "It's so good to see you!"

"Yeah, you too, Mrs. Briefs," he replied disinterestedly as he continued past her.

"But I've been expecting you!" she said hurriedly, grabbing his forearm and pulling herself in front of him. "I brought your favorite wine... and I have a young friend I want you to meet!" she continued, lifting an arm to show him the glinting bottle in her other hand.

Appraising his supposed mother-in-law, Yamcha reconsidered her bubbly facade. This was a determined, cunning woman. "Thanks -- I'll take that," he responded smoothly, scooping the bottle from her hand. "I'm sure Bulma will really appreciate it, and I could use a drink." He grinned at her stunned face and gently pulled his arm free of her as he uncorked the bottle and swiftly downed a few gulps of it. There was certainly an upside to being a great warrior -- his alcohol tolerance had increased dramatically. With barely two seconds passed, Yamcha ignored Bunny's pleas and deftly jumped over a seated group to approach the couple across the yard beneath the old tree, all the while finishing off a good third of the wine. As Yamcha neared them, he scanned the scene to assess the mood between Bulma and Vegeta, and by the way the prince angled himself towards him, it was getting to be obvious... Vegeta had staked his claim -- and Yamcha was more than willing to relieve the bastard of his pride.

Fate, however, had a different plan.

Within five steps, Yamcha began to notice Vegeta's sinister gaze warping in and out, and Bulma's shocked and anxious face wavered behind him. How much had he had to drink? Yamcha looked down at the bottle as he neared them, unsure of his course. Usually he had to drink an entire bottle to get tipsy... what was going on?

Bulma rose to her feet as she saw Yamcha's feet begin to stumble uncharacteristically. "Vegeta," she said cautiously, "I think he's drunk."

The prince narrowed his eyes as he struggled to suppress the growls threatening to rip through his chest. Perhaps... but he wouldn't put it past the fool to be playing it up just to get her sympathy. "Stay," he said simply as he walked up to meet Yamcha.

Bulma watched anxiously as her date moved away from the sprawling branches. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of blonde hair. What was her mother...? Suddenly she gasped as Bunny barreled into Yamcha, grasping him about the waist and shoving him into a group of her security personnel that had materialized on the other side of him.

Vegeta, on the other hand, watched it all as though in slow motion. There was no way in hell that he was going to get between Bunny and her plans; she had already told him that she had a backup plan to dispense with the worm if he dared show his face, and Vegeta supposed this was the result. A smug smirk began to creep on the Saiyan's features as the men began to drag Yamcha, who had apparently blacked out cold, away into the house, and his teeth glinted in the light when Bulma's frail hands wrapped around his bulging bicep from behind.

"What just happened?" she asked, ascertaining that something was definitely up here.

"Your mother," he replied darkly, nodding at the blonde as she turned to give him the thumbs up. "Looks like the... date... can continue in peace."

Despite her horror at her mother and Vegeta, Bulma couldn't help but smile at his begrudging use of the word 'date.' Apparently, he was not immune to the urge to court. "Well," she said coyly as she tugged him back towards the blanket, "Let's get to it, then."

Vegeta smirked at her insistence, imagining her in the same position, but instead urging him to bed. Her blue hair would tumble wildly across her bare shoulders, down her chest, barely covering her pale, white... But her giggle popped him out of his reverie, and Vegeta returned to reality as he sat down across from her on the blanket while she make a conspicuous effort to discard the yellow daisy in her hair and replace it with a violet orchid. He could feel the beast in his chest clawing to get out at her acceptance of him...

The next hour was spent pleasantly, as Bulma chattered away and Vegeta listened patiently to her prattle about the time-space continuum, the effect of gravity on the psyche, and so on, but what interested him was how she asked his opinions on her assertions and seemed to gravely ponder them. Of course, she _should_ know that his opinions were always correct, but for the most part he assumed that these Earthlings only counted their own observations in their findings. Who knew that this scientist would be truly interested in his thoughts? Eventually she began to pry into his own mind, inquiring gently about his explorations and past, but he had no time for that and answered tersely. Until she was his mate, he had no interest in "baring his soul" or whatever shit these women talked about men doing.

"So... what was your mother like?" she politely asked, setting her fork down on her half-eaten cake as she pushed it away.

"Female," he replied brusquely, "Enough of this. I have no interest in reliving the past."

Something flashed in Bulma's eyes, and she sat straight up to look at him. "You, dear Prince, relive the past every single day as you kill yourself to ascend -- as you cling to that identity of the Prince of All Saiyans," she said coldly, her chin lifting arrogantly, "And you should be damn proud of that."

Vegeta blinked, stunned. There she was -- his chosen -- staking her claim to his heritage and seeing honor in his face, not defeat. Of course, he had never had a problem with his past, he just didn't like rehashing all that shit again... "I never said I wasn't," he rasped, the hint of a smile curling his lips. "Another time, perhaps, if..." he trailed off, raising an eyebrow as he leaned towards her with one hand draped over his bent knee.

"If what?"

Vegeta chuckled darkly. "You may be intimate with my past when _I_ am intimate with your _present_."

It took a moment for Bulma to process it, but then a scarlet blush bloomed across her cheeks. "_Vegeta,_" she hissed in embarrassment, looking away from his intense gaze.

"The little minx playing innocent -- as if I don't remember every sly, suggestive comment you've made to me since I landed on this mudball."

"Yeah, well we weren't exactly on that subject yet."

"_Yet_," he reminded her as he leaned away. "I can feel the heat emanating from you every time I near you, Bulma. If I choose to, I can listen to your pulse race through your veins. You know of my intentions --"

"Not exactly," she interrupted, crossing her arms to mimic his. "I know that you want to have sex with me. I know that you want me -- to possess me -- but... Will you stay for me?"

Vegeta studied her for a moment before he abruptly stood up. "It's time to go," he said gravely, holding his hand out to her with a hard stare. Bulma hesitated before she accepted it.

"Where are we going?"

"It's time you figured out what you really want," he grunted as he tugged her towards the house by the wrist. "Enough of this coddling..."

As they entered the kitchen, Bulma noted with surprise three of her mother's security personnel milling around the room, but Vegeta pulled her on through the house and into the nearest guest room, whereupon she found her ex-boyfriend sprawled across the bed and beginning to stir. "Yamcha!" she cried, throwing herself towards the bed. Had she known that her mother would actually _hurt_ him...

"He's perfectly fine," Vegeta growled at her concern as she flipped him on his back and patted his cheeks roughly to rouse him, "He's just been knocked out with that shit your father uses on me in the medical bay..."

"Geez, Vegeta, that could kill him!" she replied in irritation as Yamcha moaned and blearily opened his eyes.

"Not my problem..."

"B -- Bulma?" Yamcha moaned weakly, putting a weak hand to his head. "What the hell happened?"

"Uh, I think my mom slipped something in your drink," she murmured. "How do you feel?"

"Just a little confused..."

Vegeta coughed. "No different than normal."

Shooting the prince a glare, Bulma helped Yamcha sit up. "Do you want some water or something?"

"No, but I'm so glad you're here," he replied groggily, though he was quickly regaining his faculties. "I have to talk to you... And no one here's going to let me, I think."

"Perfect," Vegeta said unexpectedly. "Here's what I wanted you to see." Suddenly he moved to the bed and yanked Yamcha off, dragging him upright to the floor as Bulma shrieked in surprise. "Stand like a man," Vegeta spat in disgust as Yamcha wobbled dangerously, finding purchase as he leaned against the wall, "You bring shame to this woman -- acting like a brat in front of her."

"Vegeta," Bulma asked in concern as she too stood, "What --?"

"Do it," Vegeta said to the other man, ignoring her query. Yamcha made no reply, but stared downcast at the floor as he fully righted himself. "_Do it_," Vegeta snarled again, clenching his fists as he stared down his competition, "Don't think I don't know about these human traditions. Don't think the blonde woman hasn't warned me already..."

Bulma took a bewildered step forward, raising her trembling hand to the men. "Hang on --"

Yamcha looked up from the floor, his hand slowly moving to sink into his pocket as he said, "Alright, Vegeta, you asked for it." Bulma's eyes bugged out as he removed a silken, black box, clenching it in his fist as he took a step to her. "Look, I know this isn't romantic, B," he said warily, his eyes roving over her dumbfounded features, "but under the circumstances..."

"No... way," she whispered, her eyes dancing back and forth between the stone-faced Saiyan in the corner and the blushing bandit. Slowly she let her arm fall to the side.

Yamcha took a deep breath, and Vegeta could hear his heart beating madly in his chest. Carefully, he sank to one knee, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looked into Bulma's face and painstakingly opened the little box to reveal a glittering diamond ring. "Bulma Briefs," Yamcha said tenderly, the hint of a tremble in his voice, "I love you more than anything on this earth -- more than any other man could..." He paused as he gazed lovingly into her wide, blue eyes. "Please make me the happiest man alive... Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Bulma stood, paralyzed, as the sound of a cruel, calculated chuckle floated from the corner of the room.

**A/N: Alright guys, I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully someone is still reading this after that wretchedly long break between updates... Please Review! I'm definitely taking your suggestions to heart!**


	12. Confessions of a Saiyan King

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers who have stuck with me, especially Mel Like Mellow, Phoenixarrow, Dragonball-Gal, haysizzle, Veggielover and Makokam... You guys have been around from the get-go! (Sorry if I left other faithfuls out... I love you all!)

Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.

**Chapter 12: Confessions of a Saiyan King**

Bulma and Yamcha were startled by the sudden clapping. "Very good, human," Vegeta rasped mockingly as he moved towards them like a panther, "You made it seem like you were being truthful."

Yamcha's smile turned to a snarl as he jerked his head to the prince. "Fuck off, you overgrown monkey," he seethed.

"Tsk, tsk, show some respect to your superior."

"Cut it out, Vegeta!" Bulma interrupted, aghast at him crushing the feelings of her once-love.

Eyes darkening, Vegeta ignored the man kneeling on the floor and placed himself between Yamcha and Bulma. "And you take seriously the affections of a man who has loosed himself on other females while committed to you?" he asked as his stare bored into her eyes. "This is what I wanted you to see..." Vegeta gestured to the angered, bewildered man beneath him. "He will always be just that -- a simpering, adoring fool. Yes, he will 'stay for you,' as you put it. No, he will not seek power elsewhere in the universe..." Slowly, Vegeta lifted a hand to her chin and wrapped an arm about her waist. "...But he will always see other women when they walk by, and you will always be tormented with wondering what he is _really_ doing."

"Shut the fuck up!" Yamcha snarled as he got to his feet behind the Saiyan, "You have no right to -- GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!" he screamed, lunging for Vegeta.

Yamcha should have learned the first time.

Tucking Bulma safely against his side, Vegeta whirled around to clamp on Yamcha's arm, and with a sickening snap, he threw the human headlong into the farthest wall. _THUD!_ The house shook with the impact, and the wall began to crumble as Yamcha, barely conscious, slumped to the ground.

Bulma screamed, her eyes bugging out with glistening tears, until Vegeta brought a hand down over her lips to silence her with a stern, blazing stare, stealing her gaze. "And that _worm_ will never be able to protect you from _me_," he finished softly as one hand wrapped around her back to cradle her head and he loosed her lips.

Bulma felt her composure cracking as one lover lay whimpering and broken against the wall, while the other held her tenderly in his blood-stained, murderous arms, but she could not contain the feeling of joy that began to seep into her very bones. "Vegeta," she whispered, staring helplessly into his onyx eyes as she slid her fragile hands up his sculpted chest, "Are you... are you saying...?"

A spasm of pain flickered across his face as he felt his pride begin to take a hit. Silently, he unwound himself from the bewitching female to stand before her like the royal he was. Bulma clutched her heart in a sudden panic that she had scared him away, but suddenly Vegeta began to kneel to one knee, and she thought her heart had stopped. Bowing his face towards the ground and thumping one clenched fist over his heart, the Prince of All Saiyans began to speak: "Bulma Briefs of planet Earth, I, Prince Vegeta of the planet Vegetasai, heir to the heritage and lore of the Saiyan race, bestow my royal promise to you: That I shall keep you, as my chosen mate, for eternity -- so long as that shall be -- and you shall rule with me over the last ages of a dying people." Vegeta paused to finally look up at his lover's face, tears pouring down her ivory cheeks as she smiled down adoringly at him. "As my mate, you shall own my title. As my bonded... you shall own my soul," he finished lowly, and with that he stood again, eyeing her carefully as he suppressed the urge to smile.

Bulma stood paralyzed with joy for a moment -- until she squealed and threw her arms about his neck as she gasped with tears and happiness. Vegeta simply let his arms rest against her hips while he nosed against her blue hair with pride and pleasure. "Oh -- Oh, Vegeta!" she breathed, planting a little kiss against his neck, "I can't believe -- I never thought -- Oh, _Vegeta!"_

Despite his overwhelming elation at their final acceptance, Vegeta felt a pinprick of warning as Yamcha began to stir again behind them. Regretfully, Vegeta unwound her from his neck to stare down at her bright blue eyes in triumph. "I've got one last thing to take care of," he murmured to her before he nosed her cheek in a rare show of affection and turned to the crumbling wall. "Time's up, weakling," he taunted as he approached his vanquished enemy.

Yamcha glared up at the Saiyan balefully, aware for the most part of what had transpired and feeling his heart begin to fall apart. "You don't deserve her..." he moaned as Vegeta once again yanked him up off the ground by his good arm.

"Ha," Vegeta replied smugly, "I _am_ what she deserves. Every bit of it."

Yamcha's face distorted into a snarl. "Fucking bastard!"

"Enough of your drabble," Vegeta snapped as he dragged him out of the room and into the hallway, "You're leaving. I've finally got some business to attend to."

"NO!" Yamcha choked out, realizing all that he was losing, but Vegeta was too fast for him; they were nearly to the kitchen.

"Take this wretched thing home," Vegeta commanded as he dragged his enemy into the kitchen where the security detail sat twiddling their thumbs. In surprise they jumped to their feet and grabbed a hold of the crumpled man. "Make sure he does not find his way back on this property." Slowly, Vegeta slid his eyes to meet Yamcha's. "And if I ever hear of you bothering _my woman_ with your affections again," he growled menacingly, lowering his face to meet the scarred one, "I will rip out your tongue before I smash every bone in your body and feed your intestines to that fucking cat of yours."

Yamcha gulped as the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

"The only reason I have yet to kill you is because it would hurt my mate; however, she knows that you have no more chances left..." Vegeta bared his teeth in a mocking smile. "...And next time, your ass belongs to _me_."

Bulma finally skittered in behind the Saiyan, hearing the last rumble of a threat. Despite her boundless joy at finally having Vegeta, her heart ached with the pain she was causing Yamcha. Slowly, she creeped up behind Vegeta, peering over his side at Yamcha's murderous gaze in despair. "Yamcha..." she squeaked dolefully, tears pricking at her eyes, "I'm so... so sorry."

He wanted to tear her heart out. He wanted to kill that piece of shit monkey... "Fuck you, Bulma," Yamcha seethed through his teeth as tears began to plop on the floor from her eyes. "Fuck you and your Saiyan bastard."

"I know..." she whispered dejectedly as the security men began to pull him up from the floor. Yamcha snarled as he got to his feet and they started to drag him out, and Bulma reached out a hand to him, saying, "I _did_ love you... before the other women...."

Vegeta pulled her back with a grimace and hooked an arm around her waist. She was only going to hurt herself by trying to console him. Vegeta knew better than anyone the value of a clean break. "Shut up," he muttered gently into her hair as he eyed the man leaving his home.

As the men closed the door behind them, Bulma heard Yamcha scream, "I hope that bastard KILLS you when he FUCKS you!" followed by a sharp crack. In despair, she turned and leaned into Vegeta's chest, tears splashing down her cheeks. "I'm sorry!" she cried, "I know I should be so happy right now -- and I _am_ -- it's just I feel like such a -- a -- a jerk!"

Vegeta was surprised when a feeling of guilt slithered its way into his stomach. It wasn't _she_ who had been cruel to the worm... "Out of the two of us," he stated bluntly, "You aren't the one to blame."

With a tiny sniffle, Bulma peered up into his hooded eyes and whispered, "The two of us?" She smiled through her tears. "I like the sound of that."

Vegeta returned the favor with a smug smirk. "Fucking _right_ the two of us," he growled as he led her out of the kitchen and back into the house, "I have no intentions of letting that weed live the next time I lay eyes on him..." he groused.

"Yeah, right," she sighed as they paused to stare at the twinkling party out of the massive windows in the living room, "You'll do whatever makes me happy."

"Is that so?" he bristled, glaring down at the woman clinging to his side.

Bulma responded by nuzzling into his shoulder. "I can be very persuasive, you know."

Instantly his irritation evaporated as his brain kicked in gear. "Hmm," he rumbled, letting his hand drift down to her hip while the other held her waist in place like an iron fetter, "Care to persuade me now?"

"What -- you think I'm that easy, do you?" she laughed.

Vegeta snorted. "You think any of this was _easy_ for me? You're impossible, woman."

"Looks like we're the perfect match," she replied, beaming into his face as she trailed a hand down his shoulder.

Vegeta looked down on her smugly as her happiness began to seep into his chest, and with a rumble of appreciation he tilted his head to hers and let his lips lightly graze her own pink petals. "You are my mate..." he whispered, brushing his mouth against her cheek. "That is the most unbreakable promise I can make to you, Bulma."

She could feel the heat pool in her stomach again as her legs began to feel weak. "I know... I just always thought..." she trailed off, refusing to look him in the eye.

Cupping her cheek with one hand, Vegeta looked down on her sternly as she brought her eyes to his. "I have bared my thoughts to you. Tell me what you want."

Bulma felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "Marriage," she whispered reverently. "I want to be married to you, Vegeta. It's the same thing as your mating promise, just..." Her eyes widened and sparkled into his. "It just is more familiar and important to me -- I want this official before we..."

But Vegeta was a quick one. "If I marry you now, then we can finally mate, is that it?" he asked gruffly, relieved that this was the only obstacle now.

"Yeah, but --"

"Where do we do this?" he asked as he pulled away and yanked her by the hand down the hallway and outside.

Gasping at the sudden turn of events, Bulma said, "Uh -- I guess we just need a judge but --"

"Let us find one then," he replied evenly, already seeing images of Bulma sprawled out beneath him, moaning his name.

"Vegeta, hang on!" she cried, tugging back on him until he stopped with a look of incredulous irritation. "We have to tell Mom and Dad -- and they're going to want a HUGE wedding, Vegeta."

He didn't seem to get the point, as his facial expression didn't change.

"You know -- like a party ten times this size."

Ah. His face turned to that of pure horror. "_What_?" he rasped.

"Yeah, you know... a wedding... Don't you Saiyans celebrate mating or whatever?"

Vegeta carefully watched her face as her eyes widened hopefully. A vague memory jogged in his head of one of his uncles standing on the royal platform hand-in-hand with his intended mate. "I suppose we do," he replied begrudgingly.

"Then come _on_," she wheedled as she tugged him across the front lawn towards the meadow where her parents sat on a wide blanket. "We need to tell them."

"_Argh_," he moaned, rolling his eyes as her parents came into view, "You are not worth all this trouble, woman."

Swiftly she turned on her heel, grabbed his hand, and drew it from her thigh to her hip. "Yes I am," she whispered with a smirk, and then she tugged her surprised fiancee to her parents. "Mom? Dad?" she called.

Bunny turned around first, and upon seeing her daughter beaming and standing hand-in-hand with the surly Prince, she gasped. "OH MY GOODNESS! It's happened!" she squealed, grabbing her husband's arm as she ran towards Bulma, who also squeaked and let go of Vegeta's hand as she barreled into her mother's arms. "Oh honey, you're engaged!" she cried as Bulma's father and Vegeta blinked stupidly at the phenomenon that is women.

"How the hell does she know?" Vegeta muttered incredulously.

"Oh, Mom!" Bulma cried happily as they clung to each other and wept.

"When is it?"

"Whenever we can do it!"

Vegeta cut in. "Today, if possible."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Geta, you're such a --"

"Why the rush, dear?" Bunny queried as she patted her future son-in-law's arm.

Vegeta turned red and muttered something in her ear that Bulma thought sounded mysteriously like 'grandchildren.'

Bunny's eyes lit up. "Well is this going to be a regular-sized ceremony or --"

Remembering the look of horror on Vegeta's face, Bulma quickly replied, "Tiny. I mean really tiny. Just family and my -- our -- closest, closest friends." Bulma looked up in adoration at Vegeta's face. "That way we can do it really soon... Like next week?"

Although she desperately wanted to whack her daughter on the head for refusing to have a major wedding, she could see the look of desperate love on her daughter's face, and Bunny was not one to ruin dreams. "Alright," she sighed, "Have it your way, but you'd better be grateful that your _loving_ parents have the best connections in the entire country for this kind of short notice affair..."

"Oh _thank you_, Momma!" Bulma cried as she threw her arms about her mother's shoulders again. "You're going to help me do _everything_ -- don't worry!"

Bunny smiled and looked over her daughter's shoulders into Vegeta's face, wherein her smile turned to a deadly glare. "_Ba-bies_," she mouthed with a feral smile, and the Saiyan had to suppress a shudder.

"Excuse me," Dr. Briefs interrupted, "I don't think I was informed of this prior to the engagement," he said with a pointed glare at the offending Saiyan.

Vegeta looked on the elder man in contempt. "I have not destroyed your planet. I have not murdered your friends. I have not _raped _your daughter. What else could you want from me?"

Bulma had to hide her smile as her father turned a pleasant shade of red. "Well at least we'll know she's safe," he conceded. "My blessings to the both of you."

Bulma looked to her fiancee in bliss. "He's just what I always wanted, Daddy," she said with a bit of mocking in her voice. "Thank you."

Vegeta looked off into the distance. "She'll do, I suppose," he humphed.

Bunny and Bulma looked at each other in giggles.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Excuse me, but when you said you'd like me to be your 'mate,' did you just want me to fix you dinner with a happier mien?"

Bulma stood in the doorway of the GR with a teasing frown on her face as her fiancee toweled off without bothering to look her way. "Like your mother doesn't do the work," he grouched, retying a shoelace. "Is it ready yet?"

Bulma ignored his grumpiness and strode up to him with a gentle touch on his arm. "What's got your panties in a bunch?" she coohed happily as she leaned in to place a kiss on his neck. "Ever since we got --" (she still had a hard time saying it) "-- engaged, you've been more distant than usual."

"I'm hungry," he said dismissively as he pulled away and walked out of the GR.

Closing her eyes and crossing her arms, Bulma tried her best to keep the anger from clouding her head -- but it was no use. "VEGETA!" she yelled, storming out to meet his bronzed back, "What the _hell_ is wrong with you? I have tried to be nice and sweet and loving for the past TWO DAYS and you can barely manage to look me in the eye!" Bulma felt the tears well up as a crushing feeling of despair hit her in the chest. "Do you not want me anymore?" she whispered, reaching out to touch his glistening shoulder blade.

Suddenly she found herself trapped in his steely arms and staring in amazement up into his deep, penetrating eyes. "Is that what you think?" he growled as one of his hands grasped her shining tresses. "Can you not feel it?"

Blinking dumbly up into his face, she replied, "I have no _idea_ what goes on in that head of yours, Geta..."

Wordlessly, he brought his face to her temple and breathed in her silken scent before he let his lips drift down to her ear, and her stomach flipped dramatically. "I am so close to losing my self-control around you, you stupid female," he muttered as one of his hands strayed to clutch her bottom. "Is it not enough that I have declared you my mate?" Vegeta closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "You and that insipid mother of yours have decided against my wishes to postpone this _marriage_ affair -- and more importantly, our _mating_ -- and you think I should dance around you constantly until then?"

"Um... yes?" she said uncertainly as she gazed into his muscled shoulder. "That's what normal couples --"

"And you think a Saiyan Prince and a human female fall into the category of 'normal couple', Bulma?" he chuckled, pulling her tighter to his lean body as he nuzzled her neck. "I spend every moment of my day trying to distract myself from storming into your lab and taking you right there," he rumbled.

Bulma sucked in her breath as she felt that familiar fire dance down to her toes. "Why didn't you tell me?" she breathed.

"The more I ignore you, the easier it is to keep from... ravishing you..." he conceded, finally lifting his head to look into her eyes. "Saiyans react physically to their mates in a way that humans don't. It's a crippling need. Even now..." Vegeta swooped in to pull a kiss from her lips, "...Even now I can barely hold back." With that, he let her go and stepped away from her. "Your presence causes me something akin to physical pain, Bulma, so if you want to keep those legs of yours shut, then let me be."

Bulma looked into his dark eyes with adoration and pity. "Alright," she said with a smile, "I get it, but don't think that I'm letting you off the hook so easily. You can't just hole yourself up in there and ignore me until the wedding. I want meals together. And an hour to ourselves a day," she added as an afterthought. "Otherwise... You're on your own."

Vegeta nodded mutely, reveling in the fact that his future mate had the guts to stand up to him.

"Dinner's ready," she said gently, and the two gazed at each other for a moment before she turned and headed into the house.

The Saiyan followed his chosen mate into the house with a smile tugging at his lips.

**A/N: So we're nearing the end of this... Two or more chapters to go with a wedding and such. Please review!!!**


	13. Of Misplacements and Best Maids

A/N: Almost there, guys. Wedding Part I.

Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.

**Chapter 13: Of Misplacements and Best Maids**

"Those are for later, sweetie."

"......"

"Um, really, the guests will want some too."

"......"

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY PASTRIEEEEEEEEEEES!"

Vegeta dropped the bite he was about to consume in surprise as Mrs. Briefs glared daggers at him from across the counter, hands on her hips. "Get upstairs so Paulo can dress you _NOW_," she growled as she marched over to the cowed Saiyan and snatched the platter from his hands. "If you mess this up _you will never eat a decent meal ever again_," she hissed into his wide eyes.

"Uh -- uh --" Vegeta stammered, his eyes darting around madly before he hauled ass out of the kitchen and to his room.

Slamming the door behind him, the merciless Saiyan regained his composure as he leaned against the frame, eyes narrowing as he suddenly noticed the hanging bag on his closet. _That must be it_, he thought darkly as he remembered one of the worst days of his existence...

"_Now just stand still, darling, I have to do ALL your measurements over again plus many more!" Paulo cried as he snatched thin air where Vegeta had stood._

"_Where the hell did your _last_ measurements go??" Vegeta snarled as he jumped towards the doorway away from the stout little man advancing on him and wielding a measuring tape like it was a noose._

_Paulo smiled like the cat who had finally caught the canary. "They got lost in all the wedding dress affair... Plus those weren't NEARLY extensive enough..."_

"_BULMAAAAA!!!"_

"_Oh come now -- do you have to call for reinforcements?"_

"_I DO NOT SEE HOW IT IS NECESSARY TO MEASURE MY --"_

"_Vegeta, what's going on?" asked an exasperated bride-to-be as she leaned against the door frame and assessed the situation. "If you're giving Paulo a hard time again..."_

_Vegeta turned to look at his mate in horror, his bare chest rippling with the movements. "I thought you said I'd never have to go through with this again!" he hissed into her ear as he darted furtive glances towards the devilish stylist._

"_Ah, Bulma darling it looks as though I need to take all his measurements again," Paulo said with a flick of his hand. "Your ravishing fiancee doesn't seem to want a tux for your wedding."_

"_Oh yeah..." Bulma replied as she touched her finger to her lips in thought, "I forgot I 'misplaced' those."_

_Vegeta looked on to the blue-haired woman in utter horror, his mouth dropping open and his pupils dilating. "You... traitor..." he gasped, stupefied as his fiancee looked on him with a feline grin dancing across her lips._

"_Well I'll leave you to it," she said with a smile, ignoring Vegeta's emphatic gestures, "I'll just be --"_

_But before she could turn around, his mouth was at her ear. "Do-not-leave-me-alone-with-this-fool! His-hands-linger-too-much!" he hissed at a blinding speed as his eyes flicked over to where Paulo stood aloofly. "And-I'm-not-altogether-sure-that-he-enjoys-the-company-of-women!"_

_Turning her dancing blue eyes towards Vegeta, Bulma replied, "Make sure you check the thighs, Paulo!" and left the room, leaving a stricken Saiyan in her wake..._

Vegeta shuddered. He should have killed that female when he had the chance... But suddenly his thoughts were interrupted as he heard a faint, familiar sigh drift through the window from the meadow below. With a smirk tugging at his lips, the graceful Prince strode to the window to peer down at the CC estate below and found his bride-to-be meandering through the garden in nothing but an ivory slip, her aqua hair fanning out in waves behind her as she wove in and out of their rows of budding plants. Vegeta chuckled darkly as he sprung out off the window sill and floated to the ground behind her. "Shouldn't you be wearing something a little different?" he remarked as Bulma jumped three feet in the air in fright.

"You stupid Saiyan!" she gasped, clutching at her heart as her eyes flashed in agitation, "I've been telling you for _weeks_ not to do that!"

Ignoring her, Vegeta glanced around them with curled lips. "Looks like you have kept your promise," he commented as he knelt down to examine a particular plant that had begun to sprout.

Bulma battled with herself -- half of her wanted to throttle him, and the other half thought he was too cute -- until she gave up and knelt down with him. "This is a head of lettuce," she explained as she reached out to stroke its unopened bulb. "I'd say with the rate of growth... within the next week or two it'll be ripe for the picking."

Vegeta stared at his mate's face as she examined the plant with a little smile dancing on her lips. Sometimes, he simply found himself captured by her utter beauty. Vegeta's eyes dropped to the edge of her slip against her skin. She was so tiny, so white, so frail... The sun glittered against her skin, and he could barely see her delicate veins beneath.

"Look at the flowers, Vegeta!" she chirped happily, interrupting his musings as she leapt to the other side of the garden. "These will be in full bloom by the time the vegetables are ready. Aren't they beautiful?" she asked as she turned to look at him, her eyes dancing and her grin catching in the afternoon light as she giggled at him.

Vegeta couldn't help the shadow of a smile that made its way onto his face. The flowers were _nothing_ compared to her loveliness, and his chest swelled at the knowledge that he had the most intelligent, beautiful, resourceful woman on the planet to call his own and carry his heir.

"Vegeta -- what's wrong?" she asked playfully as she sauntered down the row to his muscled figure, "It looks to me like you might actually be _smiling_!"

Startled, Vegeta pulled his grimace back onto his face and hooded his eyes. "Do not be deceived -- it's just the wretched sunlight," he barked hastily, glancing away from her.

Bulma tilted her head back and laughed out loud. "You might be the only person in the entire universe who thinks sunlight it wretched, Geta!"

"And you are the most ridiculous female in the universe," he growled as his cheeks and ears turned pink.

"Aw, don't be that way," she coohed with a playful gleam in her eyes as she leaned against his chest and set her cheek against his shoulder. (Vegeta scanned the area for watchers before he decided she could stay that way.) "You're about to marry me in a few hours... and then we can be 'mates' or whatever it is you want," she replied blissfully.

"Hn..." Vegeta mused as he let his nose rest against her hair, but refrained from wrapping his arms around her. "Then we can finally fuck."

Bulma paused and rolled her eyes at his crass words. "UGH," she groused as she shoved away from him, "You are SUCH a PIG! Is that all you think about? Is that all you want?" she demanded, hands on her hips and eyes flashing in mild irritation.

The Saiyan smirked as his eyes darkened and he reached out to grasp her to his chest. "Not at all..." he rasped into her ear as one hand sneaked down to trace the line of her underwear beneath her slip. "I think about food and training, too."

Bulma rolled her eyes at his playful tone of voice. "Do you just enjoy tormenting me?" she quipped as she tried to ignore the flames boiling in her stomach from his gentle touch.

"Among other things," he commented, his eyes following his hands that roved about her body, "But you look like a warrior when you are angry."

Bulma's face suddenly brightened. That kind of compliment was like an all-out declaration of love from the grouch-of-a-Prince, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Well alright then. Be that way... We should probably go get ready now, you know."

Lifting his head to look down at her rosy, beaming face, Vegeta replied, "Yes, we probably should," before his mouth swooped down on hers to capture her lips in a smoldering kiss that seared her from the crown of her head to her toes. With a startled gasp in his mouth she returned the favor and clutched the back of his neck, hauling herself closer to him as their tongues battled for dominance and their teeth scraped against one another. Vegeta nearly lost his head as his hands grasped her tiny figure to him and his groin hardened to one of the most violent kisses they had ever shared, and Bulma ground her hips against his in desperation as she felt her own need consume her.

Suddenly the sound of a loud crash echoing through the house interrupted them, and Bulma jerked her head away to see one of the assistants being tossed out the kitchen door, followed closely by her mother who swooped down on the poor man like a banshee as she yelled something about flowers and chairs. Not one to be distracted, Vegeta growled and pulled Bulma's head back to his so that he could reclaim her lips, but Bulma's restraint was back in place, and she sighed into his mouth before she pulled away again. "We really need to get ready," she said reluctantly as she stared up at him with large, blue eyes. "Especially me."

Vegeta snapped his teeth together in irritation, but he made no more efforts to distract her as he looked down on her with his dusky features.

"Take me back to my room, Prince Charming?" she asked coquettishly, batting her eyes and smoothing her hands across his rippling chest.

Vegeta grunted. "I am not some sort of transportation device, Woman."

"No," she giggled, nuzzling his neck, "You're my _mate_."

Vegeta's chest swelled with pride again as he heard her speak to him like a Saiyan, and without further ado he swept her legs up into his arms and jumped into the air as her surprised squeal reached his ears. "You asked for it," he replied with a smirk as they landed on her balcony and he set her down.

Bulma stood on wobbly legs and grasped the railing. "A little warning next time would be appreciated," she muttered, scrunching her fingers through her tousled hair.

Vegeta ignored her request. "Get ready, foolish female," he rasped as he took her chin between his fingers and stared into her bright blue eyes, "I'm waiting." And with that, he laid one more scorching kiss on her mouth before he flipped off the balcony and took to the air.

Bulma gasped and ran to the edge of the balcony to watch him soar up into the sky as a delighted smile curled against her lips. "My Prince..." she whispered before she turned on her heel and entered the house once more.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Humans have forty-six chromosomes. It takes seven miles per second to get out of Earth's gravitational pull. The average brain uses twelve Watts of power. Pi equals 3.14159 26535 89793 23846 26433..."

"How long can you go with that?" Paulo asked with an arched eyebrow as Bulma stood trembling in her ivory wedding dress at the door to her room.

The blushing bride glanced nervously over at her stylist who busied himself at her train. "About forty or fifty more figures," she admitted. "I do it whenever I get nervous. It takes my mind off of things..."

"Oh, darling, there's nothing to worry about," he laughed as he moved to re-pin one of her tumbling curls, "You barely invited anyone anyway. I'm lucky you're even letting me stay..."

"It's for Vegeta," she breathed, suddenly dizzy as she thought of the man waiting for her downstairs. "He doesn't do well with crowds, if you'll remember."

"I'm surprised he wanted to do this at all. He doesn't seem like the marriage type."

"Oh he's the marriage type alright," she replied as a smile dimpled her cheek, "He's the one who suggested it... Sort of..."

"Yes, well I understand he's not familiar with our traditions," Paulo commented as he fetched her bouquet for her, "But I think he's sincere. And I sincerely wish you two the best," he finished, looking at his old friend with tear-filled eyes.

"Oh, Paulo," she sniffled back, catching hold of his hands.

"Now no crying," he choked out as he affectionately squeezed her fingers, "I didn't put that fabulous makeup on you for nothing, honey."

"Hypocrite," she laughed, trying to keep the tears from falling.

A tiny knock at the door interrupted them, and Bulma's heart stuttered as her little father moved into view. "B -- Bulma," he gasped, and Bulma moved her hands from Paulo's to her father's.

"Daddy," she breathed, "You look dashing."

The good Doctor twitched his moustache and tears plopped down his tux. "No one --and I mean no one -- has ever looked as devastatingly beautiful as you do now, Bulma," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over her silken skin. "I've been waiting for and dreading this day since you were born."

"It's everything I want, Daddy," she said softly, staring into her father's teary eyes, "_He's_ everything I want."

"I know," he choked out, "And I wouldn't ever give you away, except that I think that that boy would kill me."

Bulma smiled and made no comment to her father's joke, guessing that it wasn't too far from the truth.

"Time's up, you two," Paulo interrupted gently, and with a smile he steered father and daughter to the stairs.

Minutes later, as the string quartet struck up and the leaves of the oak tree rustled in the breeze, Vegeta stood shifting his weight as the small group of people stared up at him from their seats, and in mild irritation he let his mind wander to assess the situation. Bulma had mentioned to him something about eliminating the bride and groom "sides," and Vegeta vaguely wondered what she meant by that as he glared at the two groups of chairs before him. There were two seats in the front that Vegeta guessed were for her mother and father, then a few chairs were filled up around them with people he didn't know, although some looked just as vapid as Bulma's infernal mother and others resembled short, lavender-haired men. Dark eyes shifting to the other side of what the humans called the aisle, the Saiyan noted the baldie, the Namek, the rest of those irritating friends minus the Weakling, and Kakarott's insipid family. Speaking of whom...

"Vegeta!" Goku whispered excitedly from behind.

The Prince ground his teeth in an effort to restrain himself from turning around and chopping the clown's head off. "_What?_" he hissed back, sliding his eyes to the side to monitor the idiot whom Bulma called the 'Best Maid.'

"Isn't this exciting?! You and Bulma are getting married!" he replied with a goofy smile as he jumped from foot to foot in anticipation.

"Hn."

"I mean, when Chi Chi and I got married, I thought we were just going to get to eat something, but boy was I surprised when I figured out what --"

"I have no interest in your affairs, Kakarott," the older Saiyan growled, stamping on Goku's foot with his heel. _How I will delight in killing you, you fool..._

"_Pweeeeee_!" Goku squeaked, holding the sound in while his cheeks puffed out and turned red with anguish.

"Now stand still like the Saiyan warrior you wish you could be," Vegeta finished, relinquishing Goku's foot while he stared off to the end of the aisle, sensing his mate's nearness.

All at once the music changed to a lighter tune and the massive doors from the patio opened. Out walked Bulma's mother, happily waving to everyone as she walked down the aisle and took her seat in front with a wink at Vegeta that caused his cheeks to redden. Meanwhile, a little girl, whom Vegeta recognized as one of Bunny's family members, pranced down the aisle behind her, twisting and spinning while showering the guests with delicate flower petals. Vegeta thought he might puke...

But then the music swelled and shifted into a familiar, heart-wrenching tune, and Vegeta stared wide-eyed down the petaled path as his bride, his mate, and his love walked through the door, one arm hooked through her father's. Her strapless, silk organza gown with lace adorning the bodice and train fluttered behind her, and the tiny white flowers nestled in her billowing curls shone against the sun, but Vegeta barely noticed these things.

All he could see was her face.

Brilliant and beaming, gentle and sweet, Bulma's face sought her fiancee's, and the moment their eyes met, a heat that she couldn't describe built up in her chest and spilled over in the form of utter joy. She had no tears to cry, for if she cried she might not be able to see the man she so desperately loved standing before her, and so, holding on to her father and her hope, Bulma floated blissfully down the aisle to her future.

**A/N: Okay, so I'm cutting this chapter short because the next one or two are pretty much the culmination of everything and -- drumroll please -- the lemon we've all been waiting for! (Gosh that makes me sound dirty...) So please review!!! **


	14. Home

A/N: This is a chapter for MATURE ADULTS ONLY. Please don't read if you find lemons offensive. Last chapter, y'all...

Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.

**Chapter 14: Home**

Standing next to his bride, back ram-rod straight as he had been taught under his father's reign, Vegeta held a piece of Bulma's lace that he had inconspicuously plucked off clenched in the palm of his hand. He would let her have her fun for now. He had done his duty. He had muttered his oaths through the ceremony, let her drag him around the reception, and had spared Kakarrot's life. Soon, he would take his reparations for it all.

"Dance with me," Bulma whispered in his ear as she crept up to his side and the music struck up; Vegeta turned his head imperceptibly before he swept her up into his arms and with military precision moved over the dance floor.

"You know how I knew you were the one?" she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.

Vegeta made no reply, but understood what she meant.

"The flowers. You remembered that day when we first planted the garden and I told you that the purple eggplant was my favorite..."

"Violet," he corrected mechanically, and his cheeks reddened.

Bulma smiled. "And so you brought me the _violet_ bouquet, not the yellow one."

Still silent, he watched her face as it brightened and glowed with happiness.

"So... violet means you love me, Vegeta," she finished, breathing heavily with her joy.

Vegeta smirked, refusing to admit to anything, and instead pulled her into his arms and leaned toward her ear. "You have all of two minutes before I destroy this entire room and drag you back to the house," he drawled, and Bulma let out a shimmering laugh as she clutched his shoulders and dipped her back against his iron hands.

"Alright, alright - avoid it all you want," she giggled as she pulled up, "But you know we're not going home, right?"

"I don't give a shit where we are, as long as there's a gravity machine there."

"Anything else you care to take with you?" she baited, batting her lashes up at him.

Vegeta contemplated her face a moment before he added with a feral grin, "Perhaps an extra set of sheets."

Bulma felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she laughed again. "You got it, Mister. Let's roll."

Half an hour later, after being showered with white rice and rose petals - ("Vegeta! Let Goku out of that choke hold!" "The imbecile dared to _throw_ things at the Prince of All Saiyans!") - Bulma and Vegeta piled into her latest, swiftest plane and took off.

"Do you want to know where we're going?" she asked impetuously as she guided the craft through the air.

Vegeta snorted. "You'll tell me whether I give a damn or not."

"Canada!"

Vegeta made no change in his facial expression, and Bulma's excited smile dimmed.

"Um, it's around Vancouver. It's nice and pleasant there now -- cooler than here."

Vegeta yawned.

"Get excited before I destroy your damn GR!" she cried, glaring over at him.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, and Bulma simmered down enough to figure that a simple acknowledgement of their situation was amazing enough. "Fine. Be that way. You'll see what I mean when we get there," she pouted, and moments later she looked over to find Vegeta with his eyes closed. Bulma rolled her eyes. She knew a dismissal when she saw one.

A few short hours later Vegeta awoke as the plan began to slow, and he leaned over to get a better view out of the wrapping window. Sprawling out beneath him like a deep green cloak, the rolling lands of alpine trees lay beneath them and the Saiyan widened his eyes at the beauty. Punctuating the terrain were slits of sparkling ocean coves, mountainous rocks, and tiny cabins.

"Told you," Bulma commented with a sly smile on her face as she watched her husband out of the corner of her eye. "It's not like home."

When they landed on a small platform between towering cedars, spruces and hemlocks, Bulma jumped down out of the ship and, feeling a little ridiculous in her wedding gown, took the hand of the assistant waiting for her. "Your coach is ready," the man informed her with an indulgent smile as he led her to the topless horse-drawn carriage ahead.

Unlike his wife, Vegeta sniffed the air distrustfully as he smelled the odd mixture of springy forest moss, damp wood, clean air, and equine fur; nevertheless, he followed the blue-haired maiden into the peculiar contraption hooked to the large animals.

"This is what people traveled in hundreds of years ago," Bulma said to the alien as he climbed in, warily holding onto the sides.

"Why the hell would you want to use it then?" he griped as the driver snapped the reigns and the carriage began to move into the woods.

"Just for the experience," she replied mildly as she looked over the side into the dark forest beyond. Vegeta took her cue, and they were silent for the rest of the trip to a quaint little cabin nestled between the coast and the old growth.

Thanking the driver and grabbing her tiny bag that rested in the seat ext to her, Bulma waited for Vegeta to descend from the carriage before she took his reluctantly-offered hand and hopped down. "Home sweet home!" she quipped as she led the way to the door before. "Um, I don't know if you're supposed to carry me over the threshold now or after the honeymoon," she admitted sheepishly after pausing at the door, and Vegeta rolled his eyes before he picked her up by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder, eliciting a snarled screech from the beauty.

"You humans have bizarre customs," he replied as he stepped through the threshold and shut the door behind him with a decided snap.

"You are SO redoing that when we get home!" she yelled, half-laughing as he set her down.

Vegeta shrugged minutely before he strode across the small living room to explore the tiny cabin. On one end, facing the ocean, the wall was compromised of tall windows that let the remnants of the sunset light filter through, and on the opposite side behind a small dividing wall was a comfy-looking bed that begged to be jumped on. A little living room area stood to the left of them, and the tiny kitchen sat against the wall to the 'bedroom.'

"Still time for training," he remarked as his eyes slid across the room to check for any danger, and the Saiyan walked away from his bride to survey the scene behind the window.

Bulma felt a hitch in her stomach, and she glided up behind him as the rays of the sunset dappled his tanned face. "So, then, no time for other activities...?" she breathed, and her eyes widened with apprehension and excitement.

A smirk spreading across his lips, Vegeta turned from the ocean to Bulma, saying, "Hell, woman, what do you think I was talking about?" And with that, he seized her arms and pulled her to him as his mouth sought hers, darting across her lips hungrily. Bulma sighed happily and gripped his wide shoulders as she sagged against him.

"Will we... will we be okay to...?" she breathed into his mouth, questioning her safety against his power.

Vegeta grunted in assent as his lips drifted to her ear. "That buffoon can mate with a human. I myself should have no trouble. It's all a matter of ki manipulation..."

It was enough for Bulma. With a blissful giggle she brought her mouth back to his and kissed him passionately while she ran her fingers through his hair.

Light spilling onto her pearly skin as his fingers sought the zipper of her dress, Bulma opened her eyes to watch his face as the organza gown began to slide down her curves to hitch at her hips. Vegeta's lips stilled against hers as his eyes opened too, and cerulean met ebony as their breaths mingled in the silence of the sunset. Slowly, very slowly, Vegeta's hands crept up to her strapless bra, and with one flick of the wrist it fell open and dropped to the floor.

Heart racing, Bulma watched his eyes as they slid from hers to her gleaming breasts, and his gaze widened in appreciation and wonder as one hand came around to caress her bared skin. Bulma sucked in with a hiss, and Vegeta's gaze darkened naughtily as he held her trembling body to his, letting his fingers whisper across her nipple.

"You're teasing me," she breathed as her fingers dug into his tuxedo, and as commandingly as possible she tried to tug his jacket down his arms.

"Hn," he scoffed, ignoring her plea as he let go of her breast to tug the rest of her dress down. It fluttered to the ground, leaving Bulma standing in her panties and clinging to her husband for dear life.

"Vegeta..." she begged as her cheeks reddened, wanting desperately to even the score as she roughly untied his bowtie.

With a smirk, Vegeta swept her up into her arms and carried her over to the bed where he deposited her in an almost-gentle manner. Bulma gaped up at him as he began to peel off his clothes with that ever-present smug look on his face. The jacket fell to the floor; the shirt opened to gleaming, taut muscles; the belt clattered against the hardwood floors; the pants drifted down to reveal his black boxer-briefs.

Eyes roving over his figure as a familiar warmth brewed in her hips, Bulma barely breathed as he hitched his thumbs beneath the tight fabric and began to pull down. The fabric strained for a moment against his bulging member before it abruptly popped down, and Bulma stopped breathing as his underwear dropped to the floor with the rest of the clothes.

His smirk speaking more than any words could, Vegeta climbed over her as she slid back against the pillows with her eyes still agape. "Enough for you, weak human?" he taunted at her obviously surprised expression.

"Shut up," she snapped playfully, and he suddenly caught her lips with his as he leaned into her. Arms entwined and blood simmering, the two kissed roughly as their brains caught up with their bodies. Soon, his hand began to trace its way down her side to her hips where it lingered against the fabric of her panties, and Bulma froze.

"Scared?" he chuckled, letting his finger drift slowly to the middle, tantalizing her as she began to squirm again beneath him.

"Not used to having someone else's fingers down there," she protested despite her eagerness as his fingers delicately rubbed her core.

"That is a comment I will ridicule and make use of at another time," he replied as he nipped at her neck, "but for now..." Vegeta made his intentions known as he sat up and pulled her underwear down before she even knew what was happening.

Laid bare against the downy-white covers, Bulma blushed prettily at her nakedness but felt no embarrassment - just unadulterated lust and love.

His eyes darkened as he surveyed her and then leaned back over her, kissing the sensitive skin of her breasts as his hand reclaimed her soft womanhood. Bulma moaned and arched into him. Her hands shot out to dig into the skin of his back, and Vegeta hardened further at her need for him.

"You -- you -- ahhhh!" she squeaked as she bucked uncontrollably at this amazing yet slightly ticklish feeling, and Vegeta continued to torture her till he felt she was wet enough for the taking.

"Ready now?" he rasped into her ear as he removed his hand and slid his hips towards hers. Bulma looked up at him through hazy eyes.

"Always," she breathed.

Face hardening with some emotion he couldn't place, Vegeta positioned himself at her entrance, stroking her in warning, and her hands entwined in his hair before he slowly pushed himself in.

Bulma's fingers clenched and her breaths came quick as he began to fill her up, and in her daze of lust she felt no pain but enjoyment as he stared into her eyes, ecstasy flashing in his face.

"Vegeta," she mewled, and his lips swept down to hers again as their hips met. They stayed that way for a moment as he devoured her and she fought to keep her head above the tide of passion overwhelming her, but soon he began to move within her. Vegeta had to pull away as she gasped into his mouth, though his lips lingered tantalizingly above hers as she moaned for him.

Faster and faster he moved, and her throat began to dry with her quick breaths. As her fingernails scraped down his scalp to his back, Bulma clenched her stomach and tried to keep up with his movements to no avail. She was all his for the taking.

Bringing his lips to her neck to suckle her soft skin, Vegeta pulled up one of her legs to her chest to better fit against her, and Bulma reveled in the feeling of being completely possessed and owned by this man. Gasping his name over and over again, Bulma clung for dear life to Vegeta and to her sanity before he began to move even faster in and out of her. All she could do was hiccup breaths as he began to shudder, pounding her until his breath came out in a strangled cry and he spilled into her.

Bulma moaned shakily as he collapsed against her momentarily -- not from weakness but from the joy of having finally mated -- and she rubbed her hands across his back soothingly as she struggled to regain her breath.

"Not a chance," he muttered as though reading her thoughts, and Vegeta lifted up to watch her face as his hands drifted back down to her thighs. With a smirk at her surprised delight, he began to crawl backwards and let his teeth scrape down her body, pausing to pay special attention to her breasts along the way. Bulma moaned at the sensitivity of her skin there, and soon his lips traveled to her navel, and down, down...

Bulma's hands shot to his hair as a sense of apprehension and excitement overwhelmed her, and Vegeta shot her a smug look before he returned to his business and let his tongue flick out to graze her nub. Bulma hissed, tossing her head back in ecstasy, and her encouragement led him to utterly attack her womanhood as he clamped his mouth over her clit and lazily circled it with his tongue. He shifted and let one finger enter her slit with a come-hither motion, and Bulma cried out as she flung her arms out to the side and clenched the covers. Moving slow to fast and back to slow, Vegeta teased her until minutes later -- when she could no longer stand it -- her body began to shake, her toes began to curl, she stopped breathing, and then with a burst of energy she cried out and erupted as she bucked against Vegeta and the bed.

Chuckling smugly, Vegeta kissed her womanhood over and over just to have the satisfaction of watching her twitch in pain and pleasure, and Bulma moaned in irritated delight.

"Had enough yet?" he challenged as he moved back on top of her and met her lips with his, and Bulma laughed weakly as she curled up against him.

"With your twisted Saiyan definition of 'enough' I'm not quite sure how to reply," she replied with a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, "But I do know that I feel like an over-sized bowl of jelly right now."

"Hn. Plenty of more time for training later then," he growled as he nipped at her ear.

Bulma pulled his face away from hers to look deep into his eyes as that feeling of utter happiness flooded through her and seared her from her head to her toes. "As much time as you want," she whispered, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Vegeta felt peculiar, understanding that her simple comment meant more that it seemed, and he tightened his grip on her as he stared into her eyes.

Brushing her hand across his forehead, she finally whispered, "I love you, Vegeta."

The Saiyan Prince felt a rush of adoration and pride surge through him, and with as much restraint as he could -- doing everything to avoid putting his already-shaky reputation at risk -- he leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes, relishing this feeling of complete joy that he had never felt before.

Bulma sighed, understanding her husband's ways, and settled for hoping that one day, perhaps far in the future, he could say the words she longed to hear.

With a brush of his lips against Bulma's nose as the last rays of the sunset fell below the violet horizon, the Prince of All Saiyans pulled his mate tighter into his arms and finally felt -- for the first time in a very, very long time -- at home.

_The End._

**Thank you ALL for your love and support! I hope you've enjoyed my very first baby, **_**Violet Means You Love Me.**_** If it feels necessary, I might right an epilogue, but other than that... Check out my other in-progress fic, **_**Something in the Water**_** for a story line much less romantic and much more... erm, carnal. Hugs and kisses to all my readers! **


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